iiii 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 
AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


U.KI.iFE 
COLLECiiON 

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DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


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[Reprinted  from  The  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  Vol.  XXV.,  No.  XCVI.„ 

A-oril-June,  1912.]  ;  ^ 


SONGS  AND  RHYMES  FROM  THE  SOUTH 

BY  E.  C.  PERROW 

The  region  of  the  southern  Appalachian  Mountains,  embracing 
the  southwestern  portion  of  Virginia,  eastern  Kentucky,  western 
North  Carolina,  East  Tennessee,  and  the  northern  portions  of  Georgia 
and  Alabama,  constitutes  a  country  which,  though  divided  among 
several  States,  is  indeed  a  unit  with  regard  both  to  the  country  and 
to  the  character  of  its  people.  The  relative  inaccessibility  of  the 
country,  as  compared  with  the  surrounding  territory,  has  until  very 
recently  kept  back  the  tide  of  progress,  which,  sweeping  around  this 
region,  has  shut  up  there  a  strange  survival  of  a  civilization  of  three 
hundred  years  ago. 

The  mf’;st  striking  thing  to  be  observed  about  the  Southern  people 
to-day  is,^  1  think,  their  extreme  conservatism  with  regard  to  their 
customs,  their  manners,  and  their  habits  of  thought;  for  the  Southern 
people  brought  with  them  from  Europe  many  Middle-Age  traditions 
which  their  manner  of  life  has  tended  to  conserve.  Their  settlement 
in  the  plain  country,  on  large  and  comparatively  isolated  plantations, 
the  coming-in  of  the  slave  relation  (essentially  feudal  in  its  nature),  and 
the  complete  absence  of  immigration  during  recent  years,  have  all 
tended  to  keep  alive  a  form  of  civilization  long  outgrown  by  other 
divisions  of  the  country. 

In  the  mountain  region  to  which  I  have  referred  the  conditions 
have  been  especially  such  as  might  be  expected  to  preserve  primitive 
ideals.  At  an  early  date  after  the  settlement  of  eastern  Virginia 
and  North  Carolina  the  more  adventurous  spirits  began  to  thread  their 
way  through  the  mountain-defiles  of  what  was  then  the  unknown 
West,  and  to  build  their  cabins  along  the  creeks  that  broke  from  that 
labyrinth  of  mountain  and  forest.  They  were  rough;  but  many  of 
them  were  worthy,  honest-hearted  people.  Among  them  were  not  a 
few  Scotch-Irish,  who  brought  with  them,  besides  their  Scottish  names 
and  many  Scottish  words,  their  native  sturdiness  of  character  and 
love  of  liberty.  Others  there  were,  no  doubt,  of  more  questionable 
condition,  —  men  who  had  been  outlawed  in  Virginia  and  North 
Carolina  and  had  sought  refuge  in  these  fastnesses;  men  who  loved 
fighting  better  than  work,  and  freedom  better  than  the  restraints  of 
the  law. 

Since  their  settlement  in  this  region,  there  have  been  few  enough 
influences  brought  to  bear  to  keep  this  isolated  people  in  line  with 
the  growth  of  the  outside  world.  For  a  long  time  commerce  left  the 
territory  unexploited;  “What  sholde  it  han  avayled  to  werreye? 


THE  LIBRARY 

■fWlc  Uf4)VERSldY  OE  NORTH  CAROLINA 
AT  CHAfEL  HiLL 


138  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 

Ther  lay  no  profit,  ther  was  no  richesse.”  The  rude  log  cabin  of  the 
mountaineer,  with  its  stone-stick-and-mud  chimney;  the  bit  of  truck 
garden  near  the  house,  tilled  by  the  women-folk;  the  hillside,  with  its 
scant  cover  of  Indian-corn,  with  now  and  then  a  creek-bottom  in  which 
weed  and  crop  struggle  on  equal  terms  for  the  mastery;  the  cold,  clear 
limestone  water  breaking  from  the  foot  of  the  ridges;  the  noisy  trout 
stream,  now  clear  as  glass,  now  swollen  by  the  almost  daily  thunder¬ 
storm;  the  bold  knobs  rising  steep  from  the  valleys  and  covered  with 
blackberries  or  huckleberries;  and  in  the  background  wave  after  wave 
of  mountain  forest,  with  its  squirrel,  wild  geese,  ’possum,  coon, 
“painter,”  rattlesnakes,  and  an  occasional  bear,  ^ — these  constituted 
the  wealth  of  the  country.  Of  course,  the  summer-resort  found  its 
place  among  us.  Thither  come,  summer  after  summer,  the  “quality” 
to  drink  the  far-famed  mineral  waters.  A  few  are  momentarily 
interested  in  the  dialect  and  habits  of  the  people,  and  some  return  to 
the  outside  world  to  write  stories  of  the  mountains  more  less  true 
to  the  characters  with  which  they  deal.^  But  such  visitors  leave  no 
impression  on  the  people.  Railroads  have  forced  their  way  through 
these  regions,  but  their  influences  have  touched  the  people  only 
superficially  —  given  them  something  to  sing  about,  or  possibly 
caused  some  of  those  living  near  the  stations  to  take  up  the  custom  of 
wearing  collars  instead  of  the  standard  red  handkerchief.  The  man 
back  in  the  ridges,  however,  they  have  left  unchanged. 

The  dialect  of  this  people  marks  them  as  belonging  to  another  age. 
Uninfluenced  by  books,  the  language  has  developed  according  to  its 
own  sweet  will,  so  that  certain  forms  have  become  standard  alike  for 
the  unlettered  and  the  better  educated.  Here  holp  is  the  preterite 
for  help,  sont  for  sent,  fotch  ior  fetch,  dove  for  dive,  crope  for  creep,  drug 
for  drag,  seen  for  see  (sometimes  see,  cf.  Gower’s  sigh),  taken  for  take. 
Many  old  forms  persist.  Many  old  words  appear,  such  as,  lay  (verb 

1  The  stories  of  Craddock  are  untrue  as  to  dialect,  and  show,  I  think,  an  over-ideal¬ 
ization  of  character.  Her  work  has  been,  though,  of  great  value  in  awakening  an  interest 
in  the  country  of  which  she  writes.  Moonshining,  of  which  Craddock  made  so  much  in 
her  stories,  has  now  about  ceased  in  these  mountains.  It  is  less  risky  to  buy  cheap  ‘  ‘  rot-gut  ’  ’ 
from  the  licensed  purveyors  in  Middlesboro,  Ky.,  although  for  the  consumer  it  is  much  less 
wholesome  than  the  purer  moonshine.  The  novels  of  Fox  are  interesting;  but  to  me,  at 
least,  the  atmosphere  is  far  from  convincing.  The  pictures  drawn  by  Opie  Reed  are,  I 
think,  much  nearer  the  truth.  Better  still  are  the  sketches  of  Charles  Forster  Smith 
(Nashville,  1908) ;  though  both  he  and  Craddock  are  wrong,  I  think,  in  what  they  say  about 
the  sadness  of  the  women.  Serious  they  are  always,  but  to  call  their  lives  unhappy  is  a 
kind  of  pathetic  fallacy.  Their  lot  is  simple,  but  they  love  their  homes  and  even  the 
monotony  of  their  daily  lives.  The  best  single  article  I  have  seen  about  these  people  is 
that  by  Adeline  Aloffett  (^Jo’UTfidl  of  AtyicvicdTi  Folk~LoT€.  vol.  iv,  p.  314')*  For  interesting 
lists  of  dialect  words,  see  Professor  Smith’s  articles  in  Tvdnsdctions  of  the  Amevicdn 
Philologicdl  Associdtion  for  1883  and  1886,  and  in  The  Southevn  Bivoudc  for  November, 
1885.  Many  interesting  words  have  also  been  reported  to  Didlect  Ifotes  from  various 
parts  of  the  South,  most  of  which  are  current  in  East  Tennessee. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


139 


wager),  start-naked,  sued,  tarn  {teach),  find  {furnish),  outfavor  (to  be 
better  looking  than),  frail  {thrash),  ferninst  (apparently  a  corruption 
of  anent) ,  piggin  (a  small  wooden  vessel  with  one  handle) ,  noggin  (such 
a  vessel  with  no  handle) ,  poke-supper  (at  which  the  food  is  served  from 
pokes),  buck  {to  bend),  smidgin,  and  hobberod  (cf.  AS.  hobbe). 

The  idea  of  compounding  words  is  still  alive  among  this  people. 
We  hear  stove-room  (for  kitchen),  widder-man,  home-house,  and  engineer- 
man.  Suffixes  are  still  alive:  we  hear  such  formations  as  pushency, 
botherment,  and  even  footback. 

There  are  some  peculiar  words  and  usages.  Several  means  “a  large 
number:”  ‘‘There  are  several  blackberries  this  year.”  Themirs  is 
equivalent  to  young  chickens.  When  one  is  proficient  in  anything,  he 
is  said  to  be  a  cat  on  that  thing:  ‘‘She  is  a  cat  on  bread.”  Proud 
means  happy.  Ficety  is  an  adjective  applied  to  one  who  is  ‘‘too  big 
for  his  breeches.” 

The  pronunciation  seems  to  be  old.  Oi  has  invariably  the  older 
sound  of  ai  in  aisle;  so  in  roil,  poiso7i,  coil  [kwail],  etc.  The  diphthong 
ou  has,  not  the  later  sound  of  plus  mt  (as  in  the  speech  of  the  Vir¬ 
ginians  and  in  what  I  take  to  be  the  speech  of  the  Englishman),  but 
the  older  sound  of  a  plus  uu,  with  usually  another  vowel  introduced 
before,  making  a  triphthong  e  plus  a  plus  u.  Again,  the  diphthong 
represented  in  such  words  as  light,  wife,  wipe,  by  the  spelling  i,  has 
not,  as  in  the  speech  of  the  Virginians  and  in  that  of  the  Englishmen 
(cf.  Murray’s  Dictionary),  the  sound  o  plus  i,  but  the  older  a  plus  i.^ 

3  =  vowel  in  but. 

2  In  the  dialect  of  my  own  family  (Piedmont,  Va.)  the  spelling  au,  ow,  is  pronounced 
a  plus  u  in  an  unclosed  syllable,  before  a  voiced  consonant,  and  before  I,  m,  n,  and  r;  so, 
now  {nau\,  thou,  loud,  mouth  (verb),  gouge,  foul,  sound,  town,  our,  tousle,  souse  (verb).  But 
before  a  voiceless  consonant  the  spelling  au,  ow,  is  pronounced  as  a  plus  u;  so,  louse  \lguse\ 
(contrast  lousy) ,  lout  (contrast  loud) ,  mouth  (contrast  the  verb) .  The  diphthong  represented 
by  the  spelling  i,  y,  is  pronounced  a  plus  i  in  unclosed  syllables,  before  voiced  consonants, 
and  before  I,  m,  n,  and  r;  so,  tribe  [traib],  ride,  writhe,  “  Tige,”  oblige,  mile,  time,  wine,  wire, 
wise,  rive.  But  before  voiceless  consonants  the  pronunciation  is  3  plus  i;  so,  wife  [wsi/e] 
(contrast  wives),  like,  wipe,  vise  and  rice,  site,  “ Smythe.”  These  rules  hold  also  for  New 
England,  as  far  as  I  can  judge.  Sweet  represents  the  first  element  of  the  spelling  au,  ow, 
as  being  in  modern  English  the  low-mixed-wide,  which  is  probably  the  sound  I  hear  in 
the  Virginia  house  \h3us\.  The  Englishman,  it  seems  to  me,  has  let  his  diphthong  slip 
forward  for  practically  all  the  words  spelled  au,  ow.  The  same  tendency  is  observable 
in  eastern  Virginia,  where  one  hears  cow  \k3u\,  our  pws],  and  the  plural  houses  \h3uzez\. 
I  think  this  is  because  eastern  Virginia  has  been  more  closely  in  touch  with  the  mother 
country  and  the  developments  there.  But  in  Tennessee,  and  in  all  that  part  of  the  South 
which  has  not  been  in  constant  intercourse  with  the  mother  country,  all  the  au,  ow,  words 
are  pronounced  with  a  diphthong  made  up  of  the  mid-back-wide  plus  the  high-back-wide- 
round.  (It  must  be  remembered  that  these  sounds,  both  in  Virginia  and  Tennessee,  are 
often  modified  by  the  introduction  before  them  of  an  e  sound,  the  mid-front-narrow;  so  that 
with  many  we  have  the  triphthongs,  [eau]  in  Tennessee,  and  [e3u]  in  Virginia.)  Murray’s 
Dictionary  records  that  in  England  the  diphthong  represented  by  the  spelling  i,  y,  is  in 
almost  all  English  words  the  mixed  vowel  plus  the  high-front-narrow;  so,  tijne  [t3im],  etc. 


140  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 

Further,  the  r,  now  reduced  to  a  mere  vocal  murmur  in  the  standard 
pronunciation  of  the  English,  is  heard  here  with  all  the  snarl  that  it 
could  have  possessed  in  the  time  of  Ben  Jonsond 

Certain  customs,  too,  mark  this  people  as  of  another  age.  The 
practice  of  giving  nicknames  is  universal  among  them.  No  boy  grows 
up  without  being  called  by  something  other  than  the  name  his  parents 
gave  him.  Sometimes  the  nickname  of  the  father  will  become  a 
patronymiic,  and  serve  as  a  surname  for  the  children.  Some  pecu¬ 
liarity  of  personal  appearance,  speech,  or  habit,  or  some  action  in  which 
the  man  has  been  involved,  usually  serves  as  a  basis  for  the  nickname. 

The  custom  of  feasting  at  funerals  still  obtains.  When  a  death 
occurs,  all  the  neighborhood  gather  at  the  house  of  the  deceased. 
There  they  “sit  up”  with  the  body  day  and  night  for  several  days, 
and  eat  the  “funeral  baked  meats”  that  the  family  of  the  departed 
one  are  expected  to  prepare. 

The  people  are  for  the  most  part  rather  superstitious.  Almost 
every  affair  of  life  is  regulated  in  accordance  with  the  sign  of  the 
moon.  Scarcely  any  one  will  dig  a  well  without  consulting  a  water- 
witch,  who  with  his  peach-tree  fork,  together  with  a  good  supply  of 
native  judgment,  usually  succeeds  in  locating  a  stream.  The  belief 
in  “hants”  is  universal  here.  I  know  one  man  who,  professing  to 
communicate  with  the  dead,  keeps  the  whole  neighborhood  in  terror. 
Old  women  gather  “yarbs”  and  practise  medicine.  Charms  are  used  to 
heal  diseases  in  man  and  beast,  and  sick  children  are  brought  many 
miles  to  be  breathed  upon  by  a  seventh  son  or  by  one  who  has  never 
seen  his  father. 

A  remarkable  degree  of  honesty  obtains  among  the  mountain  folk. 
I  was  among  them  for  over  twenty  years,  and  yet  I  never  heard  of  a 
burglary  in  the  county  in  which  I  lived.  Indeed,  I  heard  of  very 
little  stealing.  People  do  not  lock  their  corn-cribs  or  chicken-houses. 
Boats  on  the  river  are  common  property.  Any  one  may  use  a  boat, 
but  he  is  expected  to  bring  it  back  to  the  place  from  which  he  took  it. 
I  had  a  neighbor  who  was  sent  to  jail  for  a  term  as  a  punishment  for 
destroying  a  “neighbor’s  landmark.”  The  jailer  allowed  him  to 
return  home  on  Saturday  night  and  spend  Sunday  with  his  family. 
On  Monday  morning  he  was  always  promptly  back  at  his  work.  He 
never  thought  of  running  away.  There  is  maintained,  too,  a  very 
high  standard  of  sexual  relations.  Now  and  then  there  are  relations 
of  this  kind  between  young  folk;  but  it  is  almost  invariably  the  out¬ 
come  of  a  pure  and  genuine  love,  and  the  boy  almost  invariably  stands 
by  the  girl  and  marries  her.  No  one  thinks  less  of  either  therefor; 
and  the  child  of  such  a  relation,  even  though  born  out  of  wedlock,  is 

For  an  excellent  treatment  of  the  southern  r,  see  the  Louisiana  Stale  University 
Bulletin,  February,  1910. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South  141 

never  made  to  feel  that  there  is  any  stain  on  his  name.  Should  the 
boy  fail  to  stand  by  the  girl,  he  would  have  to  choose  “Texas  or  hell,” 
the  choice  being  forced  both  by  public  sentiment  and  the  accuracy  of 
what  rifles  the  girl’s  family  could  put  in  the  field. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  survivals  is  the  mountaineer’s  idea  of 
law.  His  conception  is  pre-eminently  the  Germanic.  With  him  it  is 
not  an  affair  of  the  State,  such  as  may  be  modified  by  legislators  in 
distant  Nashville;  it  is  something  personal,  something  belonging  to 
his  family,  a  heritage  that  cannot  be  alienated;  and  the  guaranty  of 
these  unwritten  rights  is  neither  sheriff  nor  governor,  but  his  own  right 
arm.  To  him  the  courts  are  an  impertinence.  No  one  could  appre¬ 
ciate  better  than  he  the  feeling  of  Robin  Hood  toward  the  high  sheriff 
of  Nottingham. 

There  is  a  considerable  amount  of  shooting  going  on  in  this  country 
all  the  time,  though  formerly  there  was  more  than  there  is  now.  On 
one  occasion  a  generation  ago,  nine  men,  I  am  told,  were  hanged  at  one 
time  in  the  county  in  which  I  was  reared.  The  ninth  man  to  ascend 
the  scaffold  coolly  remarked  that  “it  seemed  the  sign  was  in  the  neck 
that  week.”  There  was  a  tavern  at  no  great  distance  from  where  I 
lived,  at  which  fifty-seven  men  had  been  killed.  During  the  last 
summer  that  I  spent  in  my  county,  four  men  on  the  “yan  side  er 
Clinch”  shot  one  another  to  pieces  with  Winchester  rifles,  the  wife  of 
one  of  the  combatants  standing  by  her  husband,  and  handing  him 
ammunition  until  he  fell.  The  man  who  brought  across  the  news  to 
us  had  little  to  say  about  the  men,  but  remarked  that  it  was  a  pity 
to  see  lying  there  a  fine  horse  which  had  been  killed  by  a  stray  shot. 
These  are  men  of  war  from  their  youth.  The  training  with  “shootin’- 
irons”  begins  with  childhood;  and  the  boy  of  twelve  is  often,  in 
marksmanship,  the  match  for  an  experienced  man. 

But  while  outlawry  there  is  not  so  common  as  it  once  was,  the  people 
still  admire  it,  and  will  sit  for  hours  telling  stories  of  men  who  have 
defied  the  courts.  Many  are  the  prose  sagas  told  there  of  men  like 
Macajah  Harp,  Bill  Fugate,^  Bloof  Bundrant,  and  Harvey  Logan. 
Nor  do  I  think  this  admiration  for  the  outlaw  is  anything  abnormal. 
It  is  only  another  expression  of  admiration  for  bravery,  whether  rightly 

^  I  ha,v6  a.  friend  in  Grainger  County  who  takes  great  pride  in  the  fact  that  he  run 
with  Bill  Fugate.  He  tells  many  stories  of  this  outlaw.  One  will  bear  repeating  here. 
The  sheriff  sent  Fugate  word  that  he  was  coming  for  him.  Fugate  sent  him  word  that  if 
he  did,  he  had  better  bring  a  “wagin’’  with  which  to  haul  back  his  own  dead  body;  if, 
however,  the  sheriff  were  anxious  to  see  him,  he  would  come  to  the  next  session  of  his  own 
accord.  At  the  appointed  time  Fugate  came,  took  his  seat  in  the  prisoner  s  box,  and 
awaited  the  completion  of  his  trial.  He  was  found  guilty,  and  the  judge  pronounced  the 
sentence.  The  sheriff  came  over  to  take  charge  of  the  prisoner;  but  that  individual 
promptly  covered  the  sheriff  with  two  pistols,  told  the  crowd  that  if  all  remained  quiet, 
none  should  be  hurt,  backed  out  of  the  room,  sprang  on  his  horse,  and  rode  back  to  the 
mountains. 


142 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


or  wrongly  exerted.  The  stories  of  Hereward,  Fulk  Fitz  Warine, 
Robin  Hood,  Grisli,  Grettir,  Wolf,  Wilhelm  Tell,  Eustace,  and  Fran¬ 
cisco  are  just  such  expressions  as  have  come  from  earlier  periods  of  the 
English,  Scandinavian,  German,  French,  and  Spanish  peoples.  Even 
to-day  the  story  of  crime  still  holds  its  place  in  the  bookstalls;  and  we 
all,  old  and  young,  like  still  to  see  a  criminal  die  game. 

One  other  characteristic  of  this  folk  must  not  be  forgotten:  they 
sing  constantly.  If,  on  almost  any  “pretty  day,”  you  should  walk 
along  a  country  road  in  East  Tennessee,  you  could  listen  to  the  plough¬ 
man  singing  or  whistling  in  the  fields,  while  across  the  neighboring 
creek  there  would  come  the  song  of  the  barefoot  country  girl  as  she 
helped  her  mother  hang  out  the  washing  or  “pack  water”  from  the 
spring.  If  you  should  pass  a  group  of  men  who,  having  been  ‘  ‘  warned 
to  work  the  road,  were  “putting  in  their  time”  on  the  highway,  you 
would  hear  them  continually  breaking  into  song  as  they  swung  the. 
pick,  handled  the  shovel,  or  drove  the  steel  drill  into  some  projecting 
rock.  Oh  the  porch  of  the  cross-roads  store  you  would  find  a  party 
of  idle  boys  and  men,  who,  if  not  eager  listeners  to  some  rude  banjo 
minstrel’s  song,  would  be  singing  in  concert,  now  a  fragment  of  some 
hymn,  and  at  the  next  moment  some  song  of  baldest  ribaldry.  If  your 
visit  to  this  country  happened  to  be  at  the  proper  time  of  the  week, 
you  might  be  able  some  night  to  attend  a  “singin’.  ”  You  would  find 
the  young  folk  gathered  at  the  “meetin’-house,”  or  still  more  probably 
at  the  home  of  one  member  of  the  “class.”  The  songs  which  they 
have  gathered  to  practise  are  of  the  Sunday-school  variety,  such  as  have 
been  introduced  by  the  singing-school  teacher.^  In  this  gathering 
nearly  every  one  has  a  book  and  reads  his  music.  I  have  known 
people  who,  although  they  can  scarcely  read  a  word  of  English,  read 
music  well.  You  are  not  to  be  surprised,  too,  if  you  hear  some  very 
good  singing,  only  it  is  fearfully  loud,  each  singing  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  while  the  song  is  invariably  “  entuned  in  the  nose.”  They  often 
mispronounce  the  words,  and  still  oftener  have  no  idea  as  to  what  the 
words  mean,  but  that  does  not  matter:  the  song  goes  on.  After  the 

1  This  teacher,  called  the  “perfesser”  (a  title  given  in  the  South  to  all  male  teachers), 
teaches  ten  days  for  ten  dollars,  and  “boards  around”  with  his  “scholars.”  He  is  a  repre¬ 
sentative  of  what  was  once  the  travelling  minstrel.  Not  only  is  he  the  final  authority  on 
all  matters  musical,  and  the  high  priest  of  religious  music,  but  he  also,  from  time  to  time, 
essays  the  composition  of  both  poetry  and  music,  and  teaches  the  folk  to  sing  his  songs. 
Professor  Beatty  published  recently  in  the  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore  (vol.  xxii,  p.  71) 
a  song  based  on  the  New  Market  wreck.  I  heard  last  summer  another  song  composed  on 
this  same  occurrence  by  one  of  these  travelling  minstrels.  I  have  also  in  mind  a  song  that 
the  teacher  who  “learned”  me  the  “rudiments”  composed  and  had  us  sing  at  the  farewell 
session  of  his  school.  Besides  the  fact  that  the  singing-master  is  the  custodian  of  all  religious 
music,  he  also  assumes  many  of  the  functions  of  the  preacher.  Teaching  in  the  churches 
and  drawing  his  patronage  from  the  members,  he  finds  it  necessary  also  to  “talk;”  and  so 
t  is  the  usual  thing  to  hear  religious  exhortation  mixed  with  instruction  in  music. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


143 


singing  is  over,  the  young  folk  make  their  way  home,  usually  singing  all 
the  way.  The  boys  who  have  not  a  '‘swing”  amuse  themselves  by 
firing  their  pistols  (the  togae  viriles  of  the  mountain  boy)  in  proud 
contempt  of  the  sheriff  and  all  that  with  him  ever  be. 

I  call  attention  to  this  religious  singing  because  it  is  one  of  the 
directions  that  the  popular  love  of  music  has  taken.  The  Church  has 
often,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  been  the  greatest  foe  to  the 
preservation  of  popular  tradition.  These  songs,  learned  at  Sunday- 
school,  take  the  place  of  all  others;  and  it  is  mostly  these  that,  on  the 
next  day,  occupy  the  girl  as  she  “battles”  the  clothes,  and  the  boy  as 
he  chops  out  the  “crap.” 

But  as  strong  as  is  the  grip  of  the  Church,  back  in  the  coves  and 
hollows  the  spirit  of  mirth  still  dwells  in  other  than  idle  brains.  At 
“Square”  Murray’s,  near  the  head  of  Wildcat,  there  is  pretty  sure 
to  be,  before  man}^  weeks  pass,  a  “quiltin’,”  a  “house-raisin’,”  a 
“workin’,”  a  “ watermelon-cuttin’,”  a  “candy-pullin’,”  or  a  “pea- 
hullin’.”  At  the  last  named  the  tedious  task  of  shelling  the  summer’s 
crop  of  peas  is  made  even  a  pleasure,  for  the  happy  thought  of  the 
hostess  has  seated  the  young  folk  two  by  two  on  the  sand-scoured 
floor  in  front  of  a  great  backlog  fire,  now  roaring,  in  the  wide-throated 
chimney,  against  the  wind  and  the  frost  outside.  About  eleven  o’clock 
the  floor  is  cleared  of  hulls,  the  banjo  and  the  Addle  are  brought  in, 
and  some  of  the  young  folk  are  soon  dancing  to  the  time  of  “Rabbit  in 
the  Pea-Patch,”  “I  Love  Somebody,”  “The  Arkansaw  Traveller,” 
“Old  Folks  better  go  to  Bed,”  “The  Devil’s  Dance,”  “  Fire  in  the 
Mountain,”  or  some  other  characteristic  mountain  melody.  I  said 
“some  of  the  young  folk”  designedly;  for  not  all  are  bold  enough 
to  risk  the  anathema  of  the  circuit-rider  backed  by  the  entire  body 
of  the  Church.  In  fact,  the  parents  of  many  of  these  young  people 
allow  them  to  come  to  this  merry-making  only  on  condition  that 
they  do  not  dance.  But  these  young  church  members  are  in¬ 
genious.  They  propose  a  game  of  “Skip-to-my-loo,”  “Weavilly- 
Wheat,”  “Shoot-the-Buffalo,”  or  some  other  equally  innocent  form  of 
moving  to  the  time  of  music.  Here,  of  course,  the  fiddle  is  left  out, 
and  the  “players”  sing  for  an  accompaniment  to  their  “play.”  This, 
as  everybody  knows,  is  not  dancing,  this  is  “Skip-to-my-loo;”  and 
yet  by  this  name  it  seems  as  sweet  to  these  thoughtless  ones  as  the 
forbidden  pleasure  itself,  while  they  have  the  added  assurance  that  it 
leaves  neither  soil  nor  cautel  to  besmirch  the  virtue  of  their  church 
records.^ 


^  Dancing  is  considered  by  the  religiously  inclined  as  one  of  the  most  damning  of  sins. 
It  seems  to  derive  its  wickedness  from  the  instrument  which  accompanies  it.  An  instru¬ 
ment  of  music  is  considered  the  especial  property  of  the  Devil.  Not  many  churches  will 
allow  even  an  organ  in  their  buildings.  Particularly  does  the  Devil  ride  upon  a  fiddle¬ 
stick.  People  who  think  it  a  little  thing  to  take  human  life  will  shudder  at  the  thought 
of  dancing. 

VOL.  XXV. — NO.  96.  — 10 


144 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 

That  song  is  instinctive  with  this  folk  is  further  shown,  I  think,  by 
the  fact  that  with  them  all  formal  discourse  is  sung.  I  do  not  here 
refer  to  the  sing-song  way  in  which  all  speech  is  carried  on  among  them ; 
though  I  think  this,  too,  is  significant.  I  mean  that  whenever  a  man 
or  woman  speaking  in  public  becomes  deeply  interested  in  what  he  is 
saying,  he  begins  to  sing  to  a  definite  rhythm,  and  with  a  distinct 
regard  for  pitch,  all  that  he  has  to  say.  The  Hard-shell  Baptists  sing 
their  sermons  to  well-defined  melodies,  melodies  which  are  im¬ 
provised  by  the  preacher  at  the  time  of  speaking.  Indeed,  this  gift 
of  singing  the  sermon  is  regarded  as  the  chief  criterion  of  a  call  to 
preach.  It  is  also  to  be  noted  that  the  members,  when  they  get 
happy  and  shout,  cry  out  in  the  same  rhythmic  movement,  and  some¬ 
times  dance  —  after  King  David  s  manner,  we  can  imagine  in 
perfect  time  to  their  shouting. 

Having  once  understood  how  completely  for  several  generations 
these  people  have  been  separated  from  the  advancing  civilization  of 
the  rest  of  the  world,  and  having  seen  how  thoroughly  instinctive 
with  them  is  their  love  for  song,  we  should  not  be  surprised  to  find 
that  among  them  there  still  exist  some  traces  of  the  ancient  ballad¬ 
making  faculty.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  many  of  the  traditional  ballads 
have  been  found  among  them  still  alive;  and  yet  other  songs,  ap¬ 
parently  the  very  material  out  of  which  the  popular  ballad  is  made, 
may  be  picked  up  there  to-day. 

It  was  my  fortune,  while  I  was  yet  a  child,  to  move  with  my  parents 
to  the  mountains  of  East  Tennessee.  As  I  grew  up,  I  learned  a  good 
many  of  these  songs,  and  I  have  even  watched  some  of  them  in  the 
process  of  formation.  For  some  years  past  I  have  been  trying  to  make 
a  collection  of  such  fragments  of  popular  verse  as  I  could  remember  or 
could  induce  my  friends  to  write  down  for  me. 

Although  I  have  found  the  germ  of  this  collection  in  the  body  of 
verse  which  I  secured  from  the  mountains,  I  have  also  included  such 
kindred  verse  as  I  have  been  able  to  collect  in  other  Southern  States. 
I  have  even  gone  further;  for,  believing  that  the  Southern  negro  is, 
in  a  yet  greater  degree  than  the  white  man  of  the  South,  a  representa¬ 
tive  of  the  ballad-making  epoch,  I  have  included  also  such  negro  verse 
as  I  could  readily  pick  up. 

The  entire  collection  I  have  divided  under  the  following  heads: 
(I)  Songs  of  Outlaws,  (H)  Songs  of  Animals,  (HI)  Dance  Songs  and 
Nursery  Rhymes,  (IV)  Religious  Songs,  (V)  Songs  of  the  Railroad, 
(VI)  Songs  of  Drinking  and  Gambling,  (VH)  Songs  of  the  Plantation, 
(VHI)  Songs  of  Love,  and  (IX)  Miscellaneous  Verses. 

As  far  as  I  know,  the  material  I  have  has  never  appeared  in  print. 
It  is  certainly  in  the  possession  of  the  folk,  and  for  the  most  part,  I 
believe,  has  sprung  from  the  heart  of  the  folk.  Most  of  the  songs  I 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


145 

am  reporting  are  mere  fragments.  Individuals  seldom  know  a  song 
in  its  entirety:  they  know  it  only  by  snatches.  It  must  be  remem¬ 
bered,  too,  that  these  songs  are  not  integral  things.  In  many  cases 
the  stanzas  have  no  definite  order;  and  some  stanzas  may  be  known  to 
one  person  and  community,  and  be  entirely  unknown  to  another. 
Further,  some  songs  have  become  hopelessly  confused  with  others. 
This  fact  is  due  chiefly,  I  think,  to  the  comparative  scarcity  of  melodies, 
one  melody  being  made  to  serve  for  several  different  songs. 

In  such  songs  as  I  have  from  recitation,  I  have  attempted  to  repre¬ 
sent  by  phonetic  spelling  the  words  which  have  a  local  pronunciation. 
In  those  which  I  know  only  from  manuscript  I  have  retained  the 
spelling  of  the  original,  although  that  spelling  rarely  represents  the 
true  sound.  Such  manuscripts  as  I  have  been  able  to  secure  I  have 
deposited  in  the  Harvard  College  Library. 

I.  SONGS  OF  OUTLAWS 

Besides  the  many  stories  of  outlaws  current  in  the  mountains,  we 
are  not  surprised  to  find  some  songs  of  outlaws.  Usually,  whenever 
an  outlaw  has  attracted  public  attention,  some  form  of  song  springs 
up  concerning  him.  A  few  summers  ago  Harvey  Logan,  an  outlaw 
of  national  reputation,  was  confined  in  the  Knoxvihe  jail.  The  public 
made  a  hero  of  him,  and  many  ladies  carried  him  flowers  during  his 
imprisonment.  During  the  same  summer  he  made  his  escape  from 
jail  in  a  very  sensational  manner.  He  was  after  this  more  than  ever 
considered  as  a  hero.  I  was  not  surprised,  then,  last  summer  to  find  a 
fragment  of  a  ballad  which  had  already  sprung  up  concerning  the 
deeds  of  this  outlaw.  Other  outlaws  are  honored  in  the  same  way. 
I  present  below  some  of  the  outlaw  songs  I  have  picked  up  in  the  South. 


I.  JESSE  JAMES ^ 


1  See  Jotirnal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxii,  p.  246,  for  a  version  from  North  Carolina. 


146 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


Variant  of  the  foregoing  Chorus. 


Laid  Jes  -  se  James  in  his  grave, 


Laid  Jes-se  James  in  his  grave. 


A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

Jesse  James  wuz  the  man  ^  who  travelled  thoo  the  Ian  , 

Stealin’  en  robbin’  wuz  ’is  trade; 

But  a  dirty  little  caoward  by  the  name  uv  Robert  Haoward  ^ 

Laid  Jesse  James  in  ’is  grave. ^ 

Pore  Jesse  James!  Pore  Jesse  James! 

Laid  Jesse  James  in  ’is  grave; 

En  a  dirty  little  caoward  by  the  name  uv  Robert  Haoward 
Laid  Jesse  James  in  ’is  grave. 

Oh,  the  people  uv  the  West,  when  they  h’yerd  uv  Jesse’s  death, 
Wondered  haow  the  hero  come  ter  die; 

But  a  dirty  little  caoward  by  the  name  uv  Robert  Haoward 
Laid  Jesse  James  in  ’is  grave.  ^ 

It  wuz  late  one  Saddy®  night  when  the  moon  wuz  shinin’  bright 
Thet  Jesse  James  robbed  the  Danville®  train; 

But  thet  Smith  en  Wesson  ball  knocked  pore  Jesse  frum  the  wall  ’’ 
En  laid  Jesse  James  in  ’is  grave. 


B 

(From  Eastern  Kentucky;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  C.  B.  Housed) 

Oh!  Jesse  was  the  man,  he  travelled  through  the  land. 

For  money  Jesse  never  suffered  pain; 

Jesse  and  his  brother  Frank  they  robbed  Chicago  bank, 

And  stopped  the  Danville  train. 

Jesse  said  to  his  brother  Frank,  “  Will  you  stand  by  my  side 
Till  the  Danville  train  passes  by?  ” 

“  Yes;  I’ll  stand  by  your  side  and  fight  one  hundred  men  till  I  died® 

And  the  Danville  train  has  rolled  by.” 

1  In  the  mountains  the  “short  a”  has  the  standard  English  sound  low-front-wide,  not 
the  low-front-narrow  of  other  parts  of  the  South. 

2  Compare  the  corresponding  line  in  C.  Howard  was  a  pseudonym  assumed  by  Jesse 
James  at  one  time  in  his  career. 

®  Assonance  is  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the  songs  of  the  mountains. 

*  This  stanza  has  evidently  been  corrupted  by  the  slipping-out  of  the  last  two  lines, 
and  the  substitution  of  lines  from  the  refrain. 

^  A  night  much  beloved  by  the  negroes  and  poor  whites. 

®  Folk  etymology  for  Glendale,  a  railroad-station  in  Missouri  where  a  famous  robbery 
took  place.  The  name  of  the  station  was  afterward  changed  to  avoid  the  danger  of  frighten¬ 
ing  passengers  for  the  road.  Danville  is  a  natural  change;  the  mountain  folk  did  know 
Danville,  Ky. 

’’  Jesse  James  was  hanging  a  picture  on  the  wall  when  his  pretended  friend  shot  him. 

®  Contributed  by  Mr.  C.  B.  House,  Manchester,  Ky. 

®  This  line  appears  to  be  too  long,  but  it  perhaps  never  existed  in  a  smoother  version. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


147 


Oh!  Robert  Ford  was  the  man,  he  travelled  through  the  land, 

He  never  robbed  a  train  in  his  life,  ^ 

But  he  told  the  courts  that  his  aims  was  to  kill  Jesse  James, 

And  to  live  in  peace  with  his  wife. 

Ten  thousand  dollars  reward  was  given  Robert  Ford 
For  killing  Jesse  James  on  the  sly; 

Poor  Jesse  has  gone  to  rest  with  his  hands  upon  his  breast, 

And  Fll  remember  Jesse  James  till  I  die. 

C 

(From  Jackson  County,  Missouri;  country  whites;  MS.  of  F.  A.  Brown,  student  in 

Harvard  University;  1907) 

How  the  people  held  their  breath 
When  they  heard  of  Jesse’s  death. 

And  they  wondered  how  the  hero  came  to  die; 

It  was  for  the  great  reward 
That  little^  Robert  Ford 
Shot  Jesse  James  on  the  sly, 

Jesse  had  a  wife. 

The  joy  of  his  life; 

His  children  they  were  brave; 

’Twas  a  thief  and  a  coward 
That  shot  Captain  Howard 
And  laid  Jesse  James  in  his  grave. 

Jesse  James  was  a  man  and  a  friend  of  the  poor,* 

And  for  money  Jesse  never  suffered  pain; 

It  was  with  his  brother  Frank 
He  robbed  Chicago  bank 
And  stopped  the  Glendale  train. 

And  he  wandered  to  the  car  that  was  not  far  away  — 

For  the  money  in  the  safe  they  did  aim; 

*  A  good  expression  of  the  supreme  contempt  of  the  mountaineers  for  a  man  like  Ford. 
To  them  it  was  the  height  of  tragic  irony  that  such  a  man  should  kill  Jesse  James. 

*  Ford  was  only  a  youth  when  he  murdered  Jesse  James. 

*  One  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  the  outlaw  hero  is  his  kindness  to  the  poor.  Com¬ 
pare  the  legends  of  the  generosity  of  Hereward,  Fulk  Fitz  Warine,  and  Robin  Hood.  Mr. 
F.  A.  Braun,  a  citizen  of  Jackson  County,  Missouri,  tells  me  the  following  story  of  Jesse 
James,  which  he  says  is  current  in  his  county:  One  day  the  outlaw  stopped  at  the  cottage 
of  a  poor  widow  and  asked  for  something  to  eat.  The  woman  generously  shared  her  meal 
with  the  stranger.  But  the  latter  noticed  that  both  the  widow  and  her  children  were  in 
distress.  He  asked  the  poor  woman  what  her  trouble  was.  With  tears  in  her  eyes  she 

j  told  him  that  the  house  in  which  she  lived  was  mortgaged,  that  this  was  the  day  for  pay¬ 
ment,  and  that  the  landlord  was  coming  for  his  money;  but  she  lacked  a  considerable 
amount  of  the  money  that  must  be  paid,  and  she  knew  that  she  should  be  turned  out. 
The  outlaw  counted  out  the  money  needed,  made  her  a  present  of  it,  and  departed.  He 
did  not  go  far,  however,  but  hid  in  a  cornfield  near  the  roadside.  There  he  waited  till 
j  the  creditor  had  called  at  the  widow’s  cottage  and  was  returning  with  the  money.  There- 
I  upon  Jesse  James  took  po.ssession  of  the  entire  sum,  and  sent  the  creditor  home  with  empty 
I  saddle-bags. 


1 


148 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


While  the  agent  on  his  knees 
Delivered  up  the  keys 
To  Frank  and  Jesse  James. 


D 

(From  Jackson  County,  Missouri;  country  whites;  MS.  of  F.  A.  Brown;  1908) 

Jesse  James  was  a  man  and  the  friend  of  the  poor, 

And  for  money  he  never  suffered  pain, 

.  But  with  his  brother  Frank, 

He  robbed  Chicago  bank. 

And  stopped  the  Glendale  train. 

And  they  wandered  to  a  car  that  was  not  far  away. 

For  the  money  in  the  safe  was  their  aims. 

And  the  agent  on  his  knees 
Delivered  up  the  keys 
To  Frank  and  Jesse  James. 

•  ••••••••** 

Jesse  had  a  wife 

And  he  loved  her  dear  as  life. 

And  he  loved  his  children  brave. 

Oh  the  dirty  little  coward 
That  shot  Johnny  Howard 
And  laid  Jesse  James  in  his  grave. 

E 

(From  Southern  Indiana;  country  whites;  recitation  of  U.  H.  Smith,  Bloomington, 

Ind.;  1908) 

Jesse  James  had  a  wife. 

The  joy  of  his  life. 

And  the  children,  they  were  brave; 

But  that  dirty  little  coward 
Who  shot  Johnny  Howard 
Has  laid  Jesse  James  in  his  grave. 

F 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Annie  Reedy,  student  in  the  University 

of  Mississippi;  1908) 

Jesse  left  a  wife  to  mourn  all  her  life. 

Three  children  to  beg  for  bread; 

Oh,  the  dirty  little  coward  that  shot  Mr.  Howard, 

And  they  laid  Jesse  James  in  his  grave. 

G 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  J.  E.  Rankin,  student  in  the  University  of 

Mississippi;  1908) 

Jesse  James  had  a  wife  who  mourned  all  her  life. 

Three  children  to  cry  for  bread; 

But  a  dirty  little  coward  shot  down  Thomas  Howard, 

And  they  laid  Jesse  James  in  his  grave. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


H 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Ben  Bell,  student;  1908) 
Jesse  James  was  a  man,  a  pistol  in  each  hand 
He  flagged  down  the  great  Eastern  train; 

In  the  shade  of  the  trees,  he  delivered  up  the  keys 
Of  the  trains  he  had  robbed  years  ago. 

He  pulled  off  his  coat  and  hung  it  on  the  wall,^  — 

A  thing  he  had  never  done  before, — 

Robert  Ford  watched  his  eye,  and  shot  him  on  the  sly. 
Which  laid  Jesse  James  in  his  grave. 

I 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  J.  L.  Byrd,  student;  1908) 
Little  2  Jesse  James  was  a  man  of  his  own. 

Killed  many  men  and  expected  to  kill  as  many  more. 

When  he  was  shot  on  the  sly  by  little  Robert  Ford, 

Who  laid  poor  Jesse  in  his  grave. 

People  of  the  South,  ain’t  you  sorry?  {thrice) 

They  laid  poor  Jesse  in  his  grave. 

J 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  W.  C.  Stokes,  student;  1908) 
Mother  I’m  dreaming. 

Mother  I’m  dreaming. 

Mother  I’m  dreaming. 

Of  Frank  and  Jesse  James. 

K 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  1909) 

O  Jesse  James,  why  didn’t  yuh  run 
When  Bob  Ford  pulled  his  Gatlin  gun, 

Gatlin  gun,  Gatlin  gun! 

2.  JACK  MIDDLETON 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  J.  E.  Rankin,  student;  1908) 
My  name,  it  is  Jack  Middleton; 

From  Arkansas  I  came; 

I  am  a  highway  roughian; 

Stage  robbing  is  my  game. 

I  went  out  into  Texas, 

Some  gamblers  ther  to  see; 

I  tell  you,  wild  and  reckless  boys, 

I  got  on  a  western  spree. 

I  wore  a  pair  of  six  shooters. 

Which  made  me  feel  quite  grand. 

Jesse  James,  on  this  occasion,  took  his  pistols  off  and  tossed  them  on  the  bed. 
“Little”  appears  to  be  a  favorite  epithet  of  ballad  literature. 


150 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


I  found  myself  in  camps  one  day 
With  Jesse  James’s  bandd 

You  know  it  put  sad  feelings  o’er  me 
To  think  of  days  of  yore, 

And  it’s  I’ll  be  a  good  boy 
And  do  so  no  more.^ 

Jesse  passed  the  bottle  around; 

We  all  took  a  dram; 

Liquor  put  old  hell  in  me 
And  I  didn’t  give  a  damn. 

There  was  Dick  Little,  Joe  Collins,  myself, 

And  Frank,  and  the  other  three, — 

A  squad  containing  seven  men. 

And  a  merry  bunch  was  we. 

Jesse  took  the  train  for  St.  Joe 
And  shipped  the  other  three. 

That  left  a  squad  containing 
Joe  Collins,  Frank,  and  me. 

Our  plan  was  to  cross  the  Rio  Grande  ® 

And  enter  the  western  plains. 

To  intercept  the  U.  P. 

And  rob  the  West-bound  train. 

O’Bannan’s  rangers  followed  us 
One  cold  and  stormy  night. 

At  last  we  saw  our  only  revenge 
Was  to  give  the  boys  a  fight. 

They  whistled  bullets  all  around  our  ears. 

Although  they  passed  us  by; 

But  every  time  our  rifles  cracked 
A  ranger  had  to  die.^ 

I  then  pulled  for  old  Arkansas, 

I  thought  it  was  the  best. 

To  put  up  at  my  girl’s  house. 

And  take  a  little  rest. 

There  the  sheriff  tackled  me. 

He  thought  he  was  the  boss; 

But  I  drew  old  Betsy  ^  from  my  side 
And  nailed  him  to  the  cross. 

1  This  is  interesting  as  connecting  a  group  of  other  men  with  the  Jesse  James  matter. 

2  Possibly  a  momentary  Falstaffian  repentance. 

*  Jesse  James’s  band  did  some  of  their  robbing  across  the  border,  in  Mexico. 

^  A  touch  of  the  true  ballad  brevity. 

®  The  more  primitive  folk  are  fond  of  giving  names  to  their  weapons.  Compare  the 
practice  of  the  heroes  of  Romance. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


151 


3.  OLD  BRADY  1 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  R.  J.  Slay,  student;  1908) 

O  mamma,  mamma!  what  was  that? 

A  big  gun  busted  right  across  our  back! 

Ho,  hoi  he  has  been  on  the  jolly  too  long. 

I  went  a  little  closer  and  then  stepped  back. 

And  saw  the  blood  on  Brady’s  back.^ 

They  sent  for  the  doctor  in  a  mighty  haste. 

Oh,  yonder  comes  the  surgeon  in  a  racking ^  pace!” 

He  raised  his  hand,  and  hi's  hand  was  red. 

Oh,  my  goodness  gracious!  old  Brady  is  dead!  ” 

When  the  news  got  out  that  old  Brady  was  dead. 

Out  come  the  ladies  all  dressed  in  red. 

4.  DOCK  BISHOP^ 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  J.  E.  Rankin;  1908) 

My  parents  advised  me  when  I  was  quite  young 
To  leave  off  night  walking,®  bad  company  to  shun. 

To  leave  off  night  walking,  bad  company  to  shun. 

But  to  their  advising  I  paid  little  care;® 

Kept  rambling  and  gambling  in  the  wildest  career. 

I  rambled  and  gambled  by  night  and  by  day 

All  to  maintain  pretty  Maggie  and  to  dress  her  so  gay. 

Ofttimes  I  have  wondered  how  women  could  love  men; 

But  more  times  I’ve  wondered  how  men  could  love  them. 

They  will  bring  him  to  sorrow  and  sudden  downfall; 

They  will  bring  him  to  labor,  spring,  summer,  and  fall. 

When  I  was  on  shipboard,  pretty  Maggie  by  me. 

Bound  down  in  strong  iron,  I  thought  myself  free. 

When  I  landed  from  shipboard,  my  old  father  did  stand, 

A-pulling  his  grey  locks  and  wringing  his  hands. 

Saying,  “  Son,  I  have  warned  you  before  to-day. 

And  now  I  am  ready  to  be  laid  in  the  clay.” 

Farewell  to  young  men  and  ladies  so  gay; 

To-morrow  I’ll  be  sleeping  in  the  coldest  of  clay! 

1  An  outlaw  who  was  killed  some  years  ago  in  Mississippi. 

2  Identical  rhyme,  a  not  uncommon  thing  in  folk-poetry. 

2  A  gait  of  a  horse  amounting  to  about  a  mile  in  four  minutes. 

^  A  Mississippi  outlaw  who  claimed  that  he  was  driven  to  his  nefarious  trade  by  the 
expensive  tastes  of  his  wife.  This  is  a  good  example  of  the  ballad  of  moral  advice  that 
gets  itself  composed  anent  the  execution  of  some  criminal.  Compare  the  broadsides, 
"The  Trial  and  Confession  of  Frederick  Prentice,”  the  lamentation  of  James  Rogers’ 
^‘John  Brown’s  Body”  and  “Captain  Kidd. 

®  Compare  “night-riding”  as  used  at  present  in  the  Southern  States. 

•  Pronounced  to  rhyme  with  “career,  ke-uh. 


52 


Journal  of  A  merican  Folk-Lore 


5.  OLD  JOE  CLARK 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 


-* - r- 

m  c 

c 

p 

L,  p  T 

-0  '  1-  M 

m  P  \  0 

r  *  s 

,  E  r  u  u 

k—  1  r 

1  1  b  1 

J  i  • 

L  U  ^  ^ 

L b  ^  u 

0  U  ^ 

w-  W  ^  ^  ^  ^ - 

Chorus. 

r  . 

f  -V 

_ ,  J 

1  1 

k  h  m  1 

i  1  ^  1  ^ 

®  !  1 

1  1  1 

1  1  ^  1 

1  V 

^  *  m  ‘ 

W  W  0 

J  J  J  J 

 n 

k-w  _l  _ 1^'  L 

s  “1  fv  r®  •  '1  ^  1 

n 

r  Jr 

1 

11 

1 - 0 — 0 - 1 

- 1 

— U 

Ole  Joe  Clark  ’e  killed  a  man 
En  buried  ’im  in  the  san’; 

Said  ef  ’e  had  another  chance, 

He’d  kill  another  man. 

Good-by,  ole  Joe  Clark! 

Good-by,  I’m  gone! 

Good-by,  ole  Joe  Clark! 

Good-by,  Betty  Brown! 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  R.  J.  Slay;  1908) 

Old  Joe  Clark,  he  is  a  sharp. 

Creeping  through  the  timber. 

Old  Joe  Clark  shot  at  a  lark 
And  killed  my  wife  in  the  window. 

6.  CAPTAIN  KELLY 

(From  West  Virginia;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  Davidson;  1908) 

As  I  walked  over  Mulberry  Mountain, 

I  met  Captain  Kelly;  his  money  he  was  counting. 
First  I  drew  my  pistol;  then  I  drew  my  rapier, 

“Stand  and  deliver,  for  I’m  your  money-taker ! ’’ 

Mush-a-ring-a-ring-a-rah ! 

Whack  fol-d’  the  dady  O! 

Whack  fol-d’  the  dady  O! 

Ther’s  whiskey  in  the  jug. 

I  took  it  home  to  Molly, 

I  took  it  home  to  Molly, 

And  she  said  she’d  ne’er  receive  it, 

For  the  devil’s  in  the  women. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


153 


7.  MY  ROWDY  BOY 

(From  West  Virginia;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  Davidson;  1908) 

Where  is  my  rowdy  boy? 

Where  is  my  rowdy  boy? 

He’s  been  to  the  pen, 

And  he’s  got  to  go  again. 

Good-by,  my  rowdy  boy! 

8.  THE  STAGE  ROBBER 

E 

(From  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905  b 

O  faether,  O  fsether!  whut  made  you  do  so, 

To  rob  the  pore  driver  in  the  lowlan’s  so  low?  ^ 

9.  THE  DYING  COWBOY^ 

A 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  M.  A.  Kent;  1909) 

I  rode  to  fair  Laden,  fair  Laden, 

I  rode  to  fair  Laden  so  early  one  morn. 

And  there  I  fancied  a  handsome  young  cowboy. 

All  dressed  in  linen  and  ready  for  the  grave. 

Go  beat  the  drum  lowly,  and  play  the  fife  slowly. 

And  play  the  dead-march  as  they  carry  me  along; 

Go  carry  me  to  the  graveyard  and  throw  the  sod  o’er  me; 

For  I’m  a  poor  cowboy,  I  know  I’ve  done  wrong! 

Oh,  once  in  the  saddle  I  used  to  be  dashing. 

Oh,  once  in  the  saddle  I  used  to  be  gay. 

’Twas  then  I  took  to  drinking,  from  that  to  card-playing, 

Cut  short  in  my  living,  now  dying  I  lay. 

Go  call  around  me  a  crowd  of  young  cowboys. 

And  tell  them  the  story  of  my  sad  fate; 

Go  tell  the[ir]  dear  mothers,  before  they  go  further. 

Go  stop  the[ir]  wild  roving  before  it  is  too  late. 

Go  write  a  letter  to  my  grey-haired  mother. 

Go  write  a  letter  to  my  sister  dear. 

But  then  there  is  another,  yes,  dearer  than  mother; 

What  will  she  say  when  she  knows  I  am  dead? 

1  This  is  the  only  stanza  I  can  remember  of  a  song  brought  from  Texas.  It  is  said  to 
have  been  composed  by  the  daughter  of  the  criminal  and  sold  by  her  at  the  execution  of 
her  father.  In  this  connection  the  following  story  is  of  interest.  Some  years  ago  an  outlaw 
named  Callahan  was  executed  in  Kentucky.  Just  before  his  execution  he  sat  on  his  coffin 
and  played  and  sang  a  ballad  of  his  own  composing,  and,  when  he  had  finished,  broke  his 
musical  instrument  over  his  knee.  The  situation  is,  of  course,  the  same  as  that  of  Burns’s 
“McPherson’s  Farewell.” 

2  With  this  refrain  compare  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xviii,  p.  125. 

®  For  other  versions  of  this  well-known  song  compare  Ibid.,  vol.  xii,  p.  250;  and  vol. 
xxii,  p.  258. 


154 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


B 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  J.  E.  Rankin;  1909) 
As  I  went  out  walking  early  one  morning, 

As  I  went  out  walking  one  morning  in  May, 

I  met  a  young  cowboy  all  dressed  in  white  linen. 

All  dressed  in  white  linen  and  ready  for  the  grave. 

Go  write  me  a  letter  to  my  grey-headed  mother; 

Go  write  me  a  letter  to  my  sister  so  dear; 

And  there  is  another  more  dear  than  a  mother, 

I  know  she’d  be  weeping  if  she  knew  I  lay  here. 

“  Go  bring  me  a  cup  of  cold  water,  cold  water; 

Go  bring  me  a  cup  of  cold  water,”  he  said; 

But  when  I  returned  with  the  cup  of  cold  water, 

I  found  the  poor  cowboy  lying  there  dead. 

C 

(From  West  Virginia;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  Davidson;  1908) 

Once  in  my  saddle  I  used  to  go  socking. 

Once  in  my  saddle  I  used  to  be  gay; 

I  first  took  to  drinking,  and  then  to  card-playing, 
Was  shot  in  the  breast,  now  dying  I  lay. 


10.  TATERHILL^ 

E 

(From  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1911) 


_ 

N  ■  ,N 

— ^ - 

Jr 

d 

^ ^ 

— — « — 0 — ^ — 

^ - 1 

-A — - V- 

- 1'-^ - V - N - hr- 

—I — H 

- 1-^ - 1 - 1 — 

-  ^  .  -K 

— n 

rv7  ^  9^ 

9 — -»  m 

— JS-W - 0— 

J-S  u 

Ef  yer  want  ter  git  yer  head  knocked  off, 

Ef  yer  want  ter  git  yer  fill; 

Ef  yer  want  ter  git  yer  head  knocked  off. 

Go  back  ter  Taterhill. 

^  When  the  church  now  called  Mary’s  Chapel  was  built,  there  was  much  dispute  among 
the  parishioners  as  to  what  the  church  should  be  named.  One  party  stood  for  “Mary’s 
Chapel,’’  another  for  “Mount  Zion,’’  and  another  for  “Tate’s  Hill.”  Officially  the  first 
prevailed;  but  the  common  people  chose  the  last,  which  by  folk-etymology  they  trans¬ 
formed  to  Taterhill.”  The  dispute,  however,  was  for  a  time  very  violent,  and  the  con¬ 
tending  parties  several  times  came  to  blows, — “  drawed  rocks  en  knives,”  as  my  friend  Dave 
Noe  expressed  it.  This  stanza  is  a  part  of  a  song  which  sprang  up  to  celebrate  this  contest. 
Even  to  this  day  it  is  not  infrequent  to  have  religious  meetings  broken  up  by  a  free-for-all 
fight.  The  men  bring  their  pistols  and  their  whiskey  to  the  church,  and,  if  things  do  not 
go  to  suit  them,  they  sometimes  resort  to  violence.  I  remember  on  one  occasion  the  group 
on  the  inside  of  the  church  were  besieged  by  the  Moore  clan  from  the  outside.  My  cousin 
succeeded  in  holding  the  doorway  against  them  by  knocking  down  each  man  as  he  came 
up  the  steps,  while  the  women  and  children  were  taken  out  through  a  window  at  th.  back 
of  the  building. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


155 


11.  RAILROAD  BILL 

A 

(From  Alabama;  negroes;  recitation  of  Mrs.  C.  Brown;  1909) 
Railroad  Bill  1  cut  a  mighty  big  dash; 

Killed  McMillan  like  a  lightnin’-flash. 

En  he’ll  lay  yo  po  body  daown. 

Railroad  Bill  ride  on  de  train, 

Tryin  t’ac’  big  like  Cuba  en  Spain.^ 

En  he’ll  lay  yo  po  body  daown. 

Get  up,  ole  woman,  you  sleepin’  too  late! 

Ef  Railroad  Bill  come  knockin’  at  yo  gate. 

He’ll  lay  yo  po  body  daown. 

Talk  abaout  yo  bill,  yo  ten-dollah  bill. 

But  you  never  seen  a  bill  like  Railroad  Bill. 

En  he’ll  lay  yo  po  body  daown. 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  R.  J.  Slay;  1909) 
Railroad  Bill  said  before  he  died. 

He’d  fit  all  the  trains  so  the  rounders  could  ride. 

Oh,  ain’t  he  bad,  oh,  railroad  man! 

Railroad  Bill  cut  a  mighty  big  dash; 

He  killed  Bill  Johnson  with  a  lightning-flash. 

Oh,  ain’t  he  bad,  oh,  railroad  man! 

C 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  J.  R.  Anderson;  1909) 
Railroad  Bill  is  a  mighty  bad  man. 

Come  skipping  and  dodging  through  this  land. 

D 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

Talk  about  yer  five  er  yer  ten  dollar  bill; 

Ain’t  no  bill  like  de  Railroad  Bill. 

12.  JOE  TURNER 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  M.  F.  Rubel;  1909) 

Tell  me  Jo  Turner’s  come  to  town;  {thrice) 

He’s  brought  along  one  thousand  links  er  chain; 

He’s  gwine  ter  have  one  nigger  fer  each  link, 

Gwine  ter  get  this  nigger  fer  one  link. 

University  of  Louisville, 

Louisville,  Ky. 

1  Railroad  Bill  was  a  “bsed  nigguh”  who  terrified  Alabama  some  years  ago. 
^  A  reminiscence  of  the  Spanish-American  war. 

{To  be  continued) 


1 


,v. 


I  i 
,  >  *• 


\  ‘ 


I 

•Sk 


f 


<  ;■ . 


[Reprinted  from  The  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore.  Vol.  XXVI.,  No.  C.. 

April-June,  1913.] 


SONGS 


II. 


AND  RHYMES  FROM  THE  SOUTH 

BY  E.  C.  PERROW 

SONGS  IN  WHICH  ANIMALS  FIGURE 


I.  THE  OLD  GRAY  MARE 
(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  the  singing  of  my  brother;  1906) 


Refrain, 


-A - \ - £- 

-X — ft — Pv 


Ole  Turkey-Buzzard  come  a-flyin  a-by,  {thrice) 
Says,  “Ole  man,  yore  mare’s  gon  die.” 


Ef  she  dies.  I’ll  tan  her  skin;i 

Ef  she  don’t,  by  doggies!  2  m  ride  ’r  agin. 

She  got  so  pore  I  couldn’t  ride; 

Bones  stuck  up  right  thoo^  her  hide. 


Then  I  hooked  ’r  to  the  plough; 

Swore  by  doggies!  she  didn’t  know  how. 


Then  I  skinned  some  pop-paw^  lines; 
Swore  by  doggies!  she’d  take  her  time. 

Then  I  turned  ’r  daown  the  creek. 

For  her  to  hunt  some  grass  to  eat. 

Then  I  follerd  daown  the  track; 

Found  ’r  in  a  mud-hole  flat  uv’r  back. 


Then  I  felt  so  dev’lish  stout. 

Grabbed  'r  by  the  tail  en’  pulled  ’r  out. 

Then  I  thought  it  weren’t  no  sin; 

Took  out  my  knife  en’  begun  to  skin. 

‘  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xix,  p.  19.  This  stanza  is  reported  also  from 
Virginia  (Dr.  Bullitt). 

*  A  common  byword  in  East  Tennessee. 

*  So  the  word  “through”  is  pronounced  in  East  Tennessee. 

*  A  kind  of  tree,  with  its  banana-like  fruit.  The  bark  is  tough,  and  makes  good  strings. 


124 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


Refrain 

Yankty  doodle  dum,  yankty  dee/ 

Yankty  doodle  dum,  yankty  dee. 

2.  THE  OLD  GRAY  HORSE 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1908) 

Went  to  the  river  at  break  uv  day, 

Couldn’t  get  across,  en’  uh  had  to  stay; 

Paid  five  dollars  fer  un  ole  gray  horse. 

Wouldn’t  go  erlong,  en’  ’e  wouldn’t  stan’  still. 

But  jumped  up  en’  daown  like  un  ole  flutter-mill. 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Reedy;  1909) 

I  went  to  the  river  and  I  couldn’t  get  across; 

Paid  five  dollars  for  an  old  gray  horse. 

Horse  wouldn’t  ride,  horse  wouldn’t  swim. 

And  Pll  never  see  my  five  dollars  agin. 

C 

(From  Virginia;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  D.  H.  Bishop;  1909) 

I  went  to  the  river  and  couldn’t  get  across; 

Jumped  on  a  toad-frog  and  thought  he  was  a  horse.* 

3.  EDMUND  HAD  AN  OLD  GRAY  HORSE 
(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 

Edmund  had  an  ole  gray  horse;  its  name  wuz  Morgan  Brown; 

En’  every  tooth  in  Morgan’s  head  wuz  fifteen  miles  around.* 

4.  PROCTOR  KNOTT 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  M.  T.  Aldrich;  1909) 

Bet  your  money  on  Proctor  Knott!* 

He’s  a  horse  of  mine. 

Done  quit  runnin’; 

He’s  gone  to  (lyin’. 

All  the  way  from  Little  Rock 
Bet  your  money  on  Proctor  Knott. 

Proctor  Knott  run  so  fast 

You  couldn’t  see  nothing  but  the  jockey’s  ass.* 

1  Imitation  of  the  sound  of  the  banjo-string. 

*  This  couplet  is  included  in  the  college  song-books  under  the  title  “Polly  Wolly 
Doodle.”  The  college,  with  its  constant  call  for  communal  singing  and  sometimes  for 
communal  composition,  is  a  natural  place  toward  which  folk-song  of  various  localities 
will  gravitate.  It  is  also,  as  has  been  noted  in  American  Dialect  Notes,  a  hot-bed  for  the 
culture  of  slang, 

8  A  humorous  comment  on  Morgan’s  age. 

^  Evidently  named  for  a  prominent  Kentuckian,  Proctor  Knott  (died  1911). 

8  In  East  Tennessee  the  “r”  is  still  pronounced  in  this  word. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


125 


5.  I  HAD  A  LITTLE  MULE 

A 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel,  1909) 

I  had  a  little  mule,  and  his  name  was  Jack;^ 

I  rode  him  on  his  tail  to  save  his  back. 

I  had  a  little  mule,  and  his  name  was  Jay; 

I  pulled  his  tail  to  hear  him  bray. 

I  had  a  little  mule  who  was  quite  slick; 

I  pulled  his  tail  to  see  him  kick. 

This  little  mule  he  kicked  so  high, 

I  thought  that  I  had  touched  the  sky. 

I  had  a  little  mule;  he  was  made  of  hay; 

First  big  wind  come  along  and  blowed  him  away. 

B 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1908) 

I  had  a  little  pony,  en’  his  name  wuz  Jack; 

I  rode  him  on  his  belly  to  save  his  back. 

6.  I  HITCHED  MY  HORSE 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

I  hitched  my  horse  to  the  poplar  trough, 

The  poplar  trough,  the  poplar  trough,  the  poplar  trough, 

And  dar  he  notched  de  whoopin’-cough, 

De  whoopin’-cough,  de  whoopin’-cough,  de  whoopin’-cough. 

I  hitched  my  horse  to  the  swingin’  lim,  etc. 

And  dar  he  cut  de  pidgin-wing,^  etc. 

7.  UNCLE  NED* 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel,  taken  from  the  singing  of  a  negro  near 

Oxford;  1909) 

There  was  an  old  man;  his  name  was  Ned; 

He  died  some  years  ago. 

He  had  no  hair  upon  his  head. 

And  nowhere  for  hair  to  grow. 

And  this  old  man  he  had  two  sons. 

And  both  of  them  were  brothers; 

Josephus  was  the  name  of  one; 

Bohunkum  was  the  other. 

And  these  two  boys  they  had  an  old  horse; 

This  old  horse  was  blind; 

*  Cf.  Chambers’  Popular  Rhymes  of  Scotland  (1870),  p.  19,  for  a  rhyme  opening  like  this. 

*  The  name  of  a  dance. 

*  A  variant  of  the  well-known  song.  There  was  an  old  nigger,  and  his  name  was  Uncle  Ned. 


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Josephus  rid  in  front 
And  Bohunkum  rid  behind. 

These  two  boys  they  had  an  old  hen, 

A  good  old  hen  was  she; 

Every  day  she  laid  an  egg, 

Sunday  she  laid  three.^ 

8.  THAT  MULE 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  T.  H.  Holliman;  1909) 

That  mule  he  had  a  hollow  tooth. 

He  could  eat  ten  bushels  of  corn; 

Every  time  he  blinked  his  eye. 

Two  bushels  and  a  half  was  gone. 

Oh!  how  that  mule  did  holler-r, 

“Whoa!-he-”  “whoa-a!”® 

When  they  curried  him  off  with  a  rake! 

That  mule  could  pull  ten  thousand  pounds. 

That  wasn’t  half  a  load;^ 

Just  clear  the  track,  both  white  and  black. 

And  give  that  mule  the  road. 

9.  WHOA,  mule! 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  A.  B.  Pitts;  1909) 

Whoa,  mule!  whoa! 

Can’t  you  hear  him  holler? 

Tie  a  knot  in  the  end  of  his  tail, 

Or  he’ll  jump  through  his  collar.® 

10.  SWEET  TO  THE  DONKEY 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  A.  B.  Pitts;  1909) 

Sweet  to  the  donkey  is  the  growing  of  the  grass; 

And  if  you  don’t  like  his  way,  you  can  let  him  pass. 

11.  i’m  a  rowdy  old  soul 
(From  Mississippi;  negroes:  MS.?;  1909) 

I  uster  drive  a  long-horn  steer; 

Now  I  drive  a  muley: 

Hand  me  down  my  frock  and  coat; 

I’m  goin’  back  to  Juley. 

I’m  a  rowdy  old  soul,  I’m  a  rowdy  old  soul! 

There  ain’t  gwine  to  be  a  nigger  in  a  mile  or  more. 

I’m  gwine  to  get  some  brick  and  sand 
To  build  my  chimney  higher. 

To  keep  that  damned  old  tomcat 
From  putting  out  my  fire. 

*  Cf.  the  version  as  found  in  the  college  song-books. 

*  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiv,  p.  373,  where  “four”  is  the  number. 

*  An  imitation  of  the  “  hard,  dry  seesaw  of  his  horrible  bray.” 

*  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiv,  p.  371. 

*  A  stock  gibe  at  an  underfed  animal.  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiv, 

p.  371. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


127 


12.  HOOK  AND  LINE 

(From  Kentucky;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  C.  B.  House;  1905) 

Give  me  the  hook;  give  me  the  line; 

Give  me  the  gal  they  call  Caroline. 

Set  my  hook,  give  it  a  flip; 

First  thing  I  knowed,  Dad’s  ^  old  lip. 

Hook  would  break;  pole  would  bend; 

Bottom  of  the  river  old  Dad  would  send. 

Nigger  went  a-fishing  on  a  summer  day; 

Creek  turned  over, 2  and  the  fish  got  away. 

Nigger  went  a-fishing  in  the  summer  time; 

Creek  turned  over,  and  he  went  blind. 

I  went  to  the  river  and  couldn’t  get  across; 

Jumped  on  a  ’possum,  and  thought  he  was  a  horse. 

The  river  was  deep,  and  the  bottom  was  sand; 

You  ought  to  seed  that  ’possum  racking  through  the  land. 

13.  THE  sheep’s  in  THE  MEADOW 
(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

The  sheep’s  in  the  meadow,  en’  the  caow’s  in  the  corn;® 

.Where  in  the  hell  has  Lulu  gone! 

14.  WORKING  IN  THE  PEA-VINES 
(From  South  Carolina;  negroes;  MS.  of  H.  M.  Bryan;  1909) 

Turkey  in  de  bread-tray,  scratchin’  out  dough; 

“Sallie,  will  yer  dog  bite?”  —  “No,  chile,  no!” 

Workin’  in  de  pea- vines,  oh,  ho!  {thrice) 

Had  a  little  dog;  his  name  was  Clover; 

When  he  died,  he  died  all  over. 

15.  MY  COON  DOG 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  J.  L.  Byrd;  1909) 

Rabbit  in  the  log,  and  I  got  no  dog, 

Baby!^  Baby! 

Chicken  in  the  yard,  and  I  got  no  lard,® 

Baby!  Baby! 

1  That  is,  the  biggest  fish,  the  daddy  of  ’em  all.  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore; 
vol.  xxii,  p.  248,  where  “my  old  ad’’  seems  a  mistake  for  “my  old  dad.” 

®  Cf.  Berea  Quarterly  (October,  1910),  p.  20,  for  the  subject  of  the  impossible  in  folk¬ 
song. 

®  Cf.  J.  B.  Ker,  An  Essay  on  the  Archeology  of  Popular  English  Phrases  and  Nursery 
Rhymes  (London,  1834),  p.  147. 

*  A  negro  pet  name  for  “  sweetheart;  ”  used  also  by  the  whites. 

‘  That  is,  to  fry  it  with. 


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Somebody  stole  my  coon  dog, 

And  I  wish  I  had  him  back; 

Chase  them  big  ones  over  the  fence, 

And  the  little  ones  through  the  crack. 

l6.  GRANPAP’S  BULLDOG 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1908) 

Over  the  hill,  en’  across  the  level, 

Granpap’s  bulldog  treed  the  devil. 

17.  COME  ON,  BLUE^ 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  P.  Cassedy;  1909) 

Come  on.  Blue!  Come  on.  Blue! 

Dere’s  a  ’possum  in  Heabn  fer  me  an’  you! 

So  come  on.  Blue!  Come  on.  Blue! 

Soon  old  Blue  died;  I  dug  his  grave 
With  a  [  and  a]  silver  spade.^ 

Come  on.  Blue!  Come  on.  Blue! 

I  let  him  down  with  a  golden  chain. 

And  every  link  I  called  his  name. 

Come  on.  Blue!  Come  on.  Blue! 

Now  since  Blue  haft  gone  to  Heabn, 

I  says,  “Go  on.  Blue!  Go  on.  Blue! 

Dere’s  a  ’possum  in  Heabn  fer  me  an’  you.” 

18.  BOUGHT  A  COW 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  W.  G.  Pitts;  1909) 

Bought  a  cow  of  farmer  Jones, 

She  wasn’t  nothing  but  skin  and  bones; 

Kept  her  till  she  was  as  fine  as  silk; 

Jumped  the  fence,  and  strained  her  milk. 

19.  THE  OLD  COW  DIED 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1909) 

Ladies  an’  gentl’men,  I  tell  you  de  fac’ 

De  ole  caow  died  in  de  fodduh  stack. 

1 

*  Said  to  have  been  a  song  composed  by  an  old  negro  in  honor  of  his  dog. 

*  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore  (vol.  xi,  p.  22;  vol.  xxiii,  p.  438)  for  the  silver 
spade  and  golden  chain.  Here  is  a  touch  of  the  popular  love  for  gold  and  silver  so  common 
in  the  standard  ballads. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


129 


20.  THE  OLD  COW  CROSSED  THE  ROAD^ 


21,  THE  OLD  HEN 

A 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

De  ole  hen  she  cackled,  she  cackled  in  de  yard; 


De  ole  hen  she  cackled,  she  cackled  in  de  lot; 

De  nex’  time  she  cackled,  she  cackled  in  de  pot. 

Chorus 

De  ole  hen  she  cackled,  she  cackled,  she  cackled; 

An'  de  rooster  laid  de  egg. 

De  ole  hen  she  cackled,  an’  she  cackled  on  de  fence; 

De  ole  hen  she  cackled,  an’  she  ain’t  cackled  sence.  ’ 

1  This  belongs  to  that  group  of  never-ending  songs,  the  words  of  which  are  sung  over 
and  over  ad  nauseam.  A  bit  of  folk-humor.  Some  one  is  urged  to  sing.  At  length  he 
says,  I  11  sing  you  a  song  of  a  hundred  and  eleven  verses,  no  two  of  which  are  alike.”  He 
then  sings  this  until  the  company  call  for  him  to  cease.  Another  song  of  this  type  is:  — 


DAVY  BARNUM 

S - ^ N - 

^ - N— \ 

tJ 

- ^ ^ 

-K -  Ik.  ■■  ^ 

— - 1*^ 

* - 9 - ^ 

H 

UST— 

— 

— 0 - 0 — 0 — 0  g ^ — g — 1 

“The  ole  Davy  Barnum  said  to  young  Davy  Barnum, 
‘Davy  Barnum,  Davy  Barnum,  Davy  Barnum  1’ 

En’  the  young  Davy  Barnum  said  to  ole  Davy  Barnum, 
‘Davy  Barnum,  Davy  Barnum,  Davy  Barnum!’” 

*  I  believe  the  line  missing  here  is,  — 

‘‘De  nex’  time  she  keckled,  she  keckled  in  de  lauhd.” 


VOL.  XXVI. — NO.  100. — 9 


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Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


B 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1909) 

De  ole  hen  she  cackled,  she  cackled  in  de  bahn; 

De  ole  caow  died,  died  uh  de  holluh  ho  n. 

22.  GRANNY,  WILL  YER  HEN  PECK? 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1908) 

“Granny,  will  yer  hen  peck?”  — “No,  chile,  no! 

Daddy  cut  ’er  pecker  off  a  long  time  ago.” 

23.  GO  TELL  AUNT  NANCY  ^ 

(From  Virginia;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1909) 

Go  tell  Mnt  N^ncy  {thrice) 

Huh  gray  goose  is  dead,  — 

The  one  she  wuz  savin’  {thrice) 

To  make  huh  feather  bed. 

Somebody  killed  it,  {thrice) 

Knocked  it  in  the  head. 

24.  ONCE  UPON  A  TIME^ 

(From  Virginia;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1910) 

Once  upon  a  time  a  dawg  made  a  rhyme, 

A  goose  chewed  tobacco,  en’  duck  drank  wine. 

25.  CHICKEN 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Ben  Bell;  1909) 

Chicken,  little  chicken,  you’d  better  go  up  in  a  balloon; 

Chicken,  little  chicken,  you’d  better  roost  behind  the  moon; 

I’ll  give  five  dollars  for  the  chickens  three 
That  can  roost  too  high  for  me. 

26.  THE  OLD  BLACK  CAT 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  R.  J.  Slay;  1909) 

Some  may  like  the  tortoise-shell; 

Some  may  like  the  gray  as  well; 

Some  may  like  this  and  that; 

But  give  to  me  the  old  black  cat. 

Chorus 

Poor  kitty  that  lies  so  cosey  by  the  fire. 

When  the  boys  are  full  of  fun. 

They  call  the  dogs  and  set  them  on; 

I  spring  to  my  feet  and  grab  my  hat. 

And  run  to  save  the  old  black  cat. 

Sung  to  the  tune  “Ebenezer.”  Cf.  Dialed  Notes,  vol.  iii,  p.  378,  for  a  stanza  of  this 
reported  from  Alabama.  In  the  version  which  I  have  from  Mississippi,  Nobbie  takes  the 
place  of  Nancy. 

*  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  iv,  p.  48. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


27.  POOR  LITTLE  KITTY  CAT 
(From  Virginia;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1909) 

Po  lid’l  kitty  cat,  po  lid’I  felluh, 

Po  lid’I  kitty  cat,  died  in  the  celluh. 

28.  SHEEP  AND  SHOTE 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  singing  of  Mrs.  C.  Longest;  1909) 
Sheep  an  shote  went  a-walkin’  in  de  p^scher, 

Sheep  say  to  shote,  “Caen’t  you  walk  a  leetl  fester?” 
Shote  say,  ”  Sheep, ^  my  toe  souh!” 

“Oh,  I  didn’t  know  dat!” 

29.  THE  MONKEY 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909) 

I  wish  I  was  in  Texas,  sitting  on  a  rail, 

Tater  by  the  hand  and  a  ’possum  by  the  tail. 

Monkey  and  a  negro  sitting  on  a  rail; 

You  couldn’t  tell  the  difference;  but  the  monkey  had  the  tail. 

A  monkey  sitting  on  the  end  of  a  rail, 

Picking  his  tooth  with  the  end  of  his  tail. 

Mullein-leaves  and  calico  sleeves; 

All  school-teachers  are  hard  to  please. 

30.  ’possum  up  a  ’simmon-tree 
A 

(From  Eastern  North  Carolina;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  O.  Scroggs;^i9o8> 
A  'possum  up  a  ’simmon-tree; 

I  winked  at  him;  he  winked  at  me; 

I  picked  up  a  rock  and  hit  him  on  de  shin; 

Sez  he, I” Ole  feller,  don’t  do  dat  agin!” 

Chorus 

Oh,  come  ’long,  boys,  an’  shuck  dat  corn; 

We’ll  shuck  and  sing  to  de  rattle  ob  de  horn; 

We  11  shuck  and  sing  till  de  cornin’  ob  de  morn, 

An’  den  we’ll  hab  a  holiday. 

I  carried  ’im  to  Miss  Polly  Bell,* 

Becase  I  knew  she’d  cook  ’im  well. 

She  made  a  fry;  she  made  a  stew, 

A  roast,  a  bile,  an’  a  barbecue. 


B 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  M.  F.  Rubel;  1909) 

'Possum  up  the  ’simmon-tree,  coon  on  the  groun’; 

Coon  said,  “You  ’possum,  shake  dem  ’simmons  down!” 

“Sheep,  my  .  .  .  dat!’’  is  spoken. 

Cf.  Harris,  Uncle  Remus  and  his  Friends,  p.  208. 


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Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


’Possum  up  de  ’simmon-tree,  coony  in  de  hollow; 

There’s  a  pretty  gal  at  Daddy’s  house,  as  fat  as  she  can  wallow. 


Went  up  on  the  mountain  to  get  me  a  load  of  corn; 

A  raccoon  treed  the  devil,  and  a  ’possum  blowed  his  horn. 

31.  THE  RABBIT 

{From  West  Tennessee;  negroes;  recitation  of  Mrs.  C.  Brown;  1909) 

Hyeuh  dawg!  Hyeuh’s  a  rabbit! 

Ef  yuh  ketch  it,  yuh  ken  habbit. 

32.  OH,  MR.  rabbit! 

{From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  J.  R.  Anderson;  1909) 

"Oh,  Mr.  Rabbit!  your  tail’s  mighty  white."  ^ 

"Yes,  my  God!  I  can  take  it  out  er  sight." 

^‘Oh,  Mr,  Rabbit!  you  feet’s  mighty  light." 

"Yes,  my  God!  I  can  take  em  out  er  sight!" 

33.  OLE  MOLLY-HARE* 

{From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

"Ole  Molly-hare,  what  you  doin’  dare?” 

"  Runnin’  through  the  ’backer-patch  hard  as  I  can  tear." 

"Ole  Molly-hare,  what  you  doin’  dare?" 

"  Settin’  in  de  brier-patch,  pickin’  out  de  hair." 

34.  OLD  CORNFIELD  RABBIT* 

^(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  A,  B.  Pitts;  1909) 

Old  cornfield  rabbit  .  .  .  {prolonged) 

Chorus 

Rabbit!  rabbit! 

Got  a  mighty  habit  .  .  .  etc. 

Coming  in  de  garden  .  .  . 

Cutting  down  de  cabbage  .  .  . 

I  called  my  dog  .  .  . 

Put  him  on  the  track  .  .  . 

Little  black  fool  .  .  . 

Come  a  trotting  right  back  .  .  . 

Chorus 

Help  me  to  holler  rabbit  now! 

"Rabbit!  rabbit!” 

Come  on,  boys,  let’s  have  a  time! 

"Rabbit!  rabbit!" 

1  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiii,  pp.  435  et  seq. 

*  For  another  version,  cf.  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iii,  p.  351. 

*  Cf.  a  version  given  in  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiv,  p.  317.  The  negro 
of  Mississippi  often  sing  this  song  when  they  gather,  a  fore-singer  improvising  the  stor 
.and  the  chorus  shouting.  “Rabbit!  rabbit!” 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


133 


35.  THE  JAYBIRD  DIED  ^ 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

Oh  the  jaybird  died  of  the  whooping-cough; 

And  the  sparrow  died  of  the  colic; 

Along  came  a  frog  with  his  fiddle  on  his  back, 
Inquiring  the  way  to  the  frolic. 

If  ever  I  get  through  this  war, 

And  the  Southern  boys  don’t  find  me. 

I’ll  return  straightway  back  home  again 
To  the  girl  I  left  behind  me. 

36.  THE  JAYBIRD 
A 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  M.  F.  Rubel;  1909) 

Jaybird  sittin’  on  a  hickory  lim’; 

He  winked  at  me,  and  I  winked  at  him. 

Picked  up  a  stick  and  hit  him  on  the  shin, 

“Now,  doggone  you!  Wink  agin!’’ 


B 

(From  Missisvsippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Hudson;  1909) 

Jaybird  settin’  in  a  swingin’  lim’ 

Looked  at  me,  and  I  at  him; 

Cocked  my  gun  an’  split  his  chin. 

An’  lef’  the  arrer  stickin’  in. 

37.  THE  OLD  BLUEJAY 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

The  ole  bluejay  {four  times) 

On  the  swingin’  lim’,  etc. 

I  picked  him  clean,  etc. 

I  wallered  him  around,  etc. 

I  fried  him  brown,  etc. 

I  swallered  him  down,  etc. 

^  For  other  jaybird  verses,  cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  ii,  p.  300,  and  Dialect 
Notes,  vol.  iii,  p.  324.  Mrs.  L.  M.  Cheshire  gives  in  a  newspaper  article  the  following  from 
Florida:  — 

'  “Jaybird  up  the  sugar-tree, 

Sparrow  on  de  groun’; 

Jaybird  shake  de  sugar  down. 

Sparrow  pass  hit  eround. 

“Shoo,  ladies,  shoo,  {twice) 

Shoo,  ladies,  shoo,  my  gal. 

I’m  boun’  for  Sugar  Hill. 

“Five  cents  is  my  pocket  change; 

Ten  cents  is  my  bill; 

If  times  don’t  get  no  bettah  heah, 

I’m  boun’  for  Sugar  Hill.’’ 


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Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


38.  THE  JAYBIRD  DIED 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  L.  A.  Harrison;  1909) 

Way  down  yonder  in  my  old  loft, 

Jaybird  died  with  the  whooping-cough. 

He  fell  in  my  watering-trough, 

And  gave  my  cow  the  whooping-cough. 

39.  FREE  LITTLE  BIRD  ^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1909) 

I’m  as  free  a  little  bird  ez  I  ken  be!  {twice) 

I’ll  build  my  nest  in  the  high  oak-tree. 

Where  the  bad  boys  can’t  bother  me. 

I’m  as  free  a  little  bird  ez  I  ken  be!  {twice) 

I’ll  draown  myself  in  the  bottom  uv  the  sea, 

Before  I’ll  let  the  bad  boys  bother  me. 

40.  THE  FROG  WENT  A-COURTING* 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

The  Frog  went  a-courtin’;  he  did  ride,  {thrice) 

A  sword  en’  pistol  by  his  side. 

Where  will  the  weddin’-supper  be,  Baby?i*  {thrice) 

Way  daown  yander  in  the  holler  oak-tree.  Baby. 

What  will  the  weddin’-supper  be.  Baby?  {thrice) 

Fried  mosquito  en’  roasted  flea,*  Baby. 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

A  Frog  he  would  a-wooing  go. 

Whether  his  mother  would  let  him  or  no. 

C 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Raymond;  1909) 

A  Gentleman  Frog  got  up  to  ride,  um  .  .  .  um  .  .  .  {humming) 

A  Gentleman  Frog  got  up  to  ride, 

A  sword  and  a  pistol  by  his  side,  um  .  .  .  um  .  .  . 

Went  down  to  Lady  Mouse’s  hall. 

Knocked  at  the  door,  and  there  did  call. 

*  For  another  version,  cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxii,  p.  241. 

*  Cf.  Percy  Society,  vol.  iv  (1842);  Halliwell,  No.  xciii;  also  Lina  Eckstein,  Compara¬ 
tive  Studies,  pp.  29,  94. 

*  Cf.  Gomme,  Traditional  Games,  vol.  ii,  p.  163. 

*  Cf.  Berea  Quarterly  (October,  1910),  p.  25,  for  other  insects:  — 

“As  I  went  down  in  my  old  field, 

I  heard  a  mighty  maulin’; 

The  seed-ticks  was  a-splittin’  rails; 

The  chigres  was  a-haulin’.’’ 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


135 


He  asked  if  Lady  Mouse  were  in. 

“Yes,  kind  sir,  she  sits  to  spin.” 

Directly  Lady  Mouse  came  down, 

Dressed  in  silk  and  satin  gown. 

He  said,  “Miss  Mouse,  won’t  you  marry  me?” 

“Yes,  kind  sir,  if  you’ll  have  me.’’ 

Directly  Uncle  Rat  came  home; 

“Who’s  been  here  since  I’ve  been  gone?” 

“A  nice  young  gentleman,”  said  she; 

“I’ll  have  him,  if  he’ll  have  me.” 

Uncle  Rat  went  back  to  town 
To  buy  his  niece  a  wedding-gown. 

“Where  shall  the  wedding-supper  be?” 

“Way  down  yonder,  in  an  old  hollow  oak-tree.” 

“What  shall  the  wedding-supper  be?” 

“Bread  and  honey  and  a  big  black  bee.” 

The  first  one  there  was  Mr.  Coon, 

Waving  about  a  big  silver  spoon. 

The  next  one  there  was  Mr.  Snake, 

Handing  around  the  wedding-cake. 

The  next  one  there  was  a  Bumblebee, 

Tuning  his  fiddle  on  his  knee. 

Mr.  Frog  got  scared,  and  run  out  the  door; 

He  never  had  heard  a  fiddle  before. 

Miss  Mouse  got  scared  and  run  up  the  wall; 

Her  foot  got  caught,  and  she  did  fall. 

41.  THE  BULLFROG 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

Way  daown  yander  in  Arkansaw, 

The  Bullfrog  said,  “Ker-chow  ker-chaw.” 

Way  daown  yander  in  China-rank, 

The  Bullfrog  jumped  frum  bank  to  bank. 

The  Bullfrog  jumped  frum  the  bottom  uv  the  well, 
En’  swore  by  God!  he  wuz  just  frum  hell. 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  J.  R.  Anderson;  1909) 

The  Bullfrog  jumped  from  bank  to  bank. 

Skint  his  shins  from  shank  to  shank. 

The  Bullfrog  jumped  from  the  bottom  of  the  well. 
And  swore  by  George!  he  was  just  from  hell. 


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42.  THE  BULLFROG  AND  THE  ALLIGATOR 
(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

Oh!  de  Bullfrog  tried  for  to  court  de  Alligator 
He  hopped  upon  a  log,  and  offered  her  a  tater. 

Oh!  de  Alligator  grin,  an’  den  she  try  to  blush, 

An  de  Bullfrog  cried  out,  “Oh,  do  hush!’’ 

43.  COME  ALONG,  LADIES 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

Come  along,  ladies,  take  a  drink  o’  grog; 

Ever  see  a  tadpole  turnin’  to  a  frog? 

44.  WHAT  MAKE  A  FRENCHMAN  GROW  SO  TALL 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

What  make  a  Frenchman  grow  so  tall.  Sugar-babe?  {twice) 

What  make  a  Frenchman  grow  so  tall? 

Kase  he  eat  de  crawfish,  head  an’  all.  Sugar-babe. 

Little  bit  er  Frenchman  nine  days  ole.  Sugar-babe,  etc. 

Down  on  his  knees  at  de  crawfish  hole.  Sugar-babe. 

Little  bit  er  Frenchman  nine  days  ole.  Sugar-babe,  etc. 

Tryin’  ter  ketch  a  crawfish,  bless  his  soul!  Sugar-babe. 

III.  GAME  SONGS  AND  NURSERY  RHYMES 

I.  SKIP  TO  MY  LOU^ 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

Pretty  as  a  red-bird,  prettier,  too;  {thrice) 

Skip  to  my  Lou,  my  darling. 

Get  me  another  one,  prettier,  too;  etc. 

*  Lou,  a  common  term  for  “sweetheart”  in  East  Tennessee.  Probably  derived  from 
the  proper  noun.  This  song  bears  strong  evidences  of  communal  composition.  The 
stanzas  have  no  fixed  order;  any  one  may  be  sung  at  any  time  during  the  dance,  if  the 
fore-singer  thinks  fit.  The  rhyme-scheme,  although  a  very  simple  one,  is  frequently  lost 
sight  of  as  the  fore-singer,  feeling  that  the  dance  must  go  on,  is  obliged  from  time  to  time 
to  improvise  words  to  accompany  his  action.  I  have  often  engaged  in  this  dance,  and 
have  seen  the  process  of  such  communal  composition.  The  game  is  played  as  follows; 
the  boys  choose  their  partners  from  among  the  girls,  and  the  couples  arrange  themselves 
along  the  walls  of  the  room  in  which  the  dance  is  to  take  place.  There  is  one  boy,  how¬ 
ever,  who  has  no  partner.  He  begins  the  song,  skips  across  the  room  to  the  time  of  the 
music,  and  steals  the  girl  of  his  choice  from  the  boy  who  is  with  her.  This  boy  then 
becomes  the  fore-singer,  and  steals  another  girl,  or  sometimes  brings  back  the  girl  who 
has  been  taken  from  him.  The  fore-singer  determines  what  verse  shall  be  sung,  the  crowd 
joining  in  with  him  as  soon  as  possible.  He  often  sings  just  what  happens  to  come  into 
his  head  at  the  time,  his  best  verses,  of  course,  being  remembered,  and  used  again  the  next 
time  the  game  is  played.  Cf.  the  account  of  this  game  in  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore, 
vol.  XXV,  p.  270. 


137 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 

I’ll  have  her  back  in  spite  of  you;  etc. 

Gone  again;  skip  to  my  Lou;  etc. 

Sweet  as  a  pop-paw  punkin-pie;  etc. 

Pigs  in  the  ’tater-patch,  skip  to  my  Lou;  etc. 

She  wears  shoes  number  two;  etc. 

Stand  like  a  fool,^  skip  to  my  Lou;  etc. 

B 

(From  Indiana;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Davidson;  1908)' 

Dad’s  old  hat  and  Mam’s  old  shoe;  etc. 

C 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  R.  J.  Slay;  1909) 

Lost  my  partner,  what  will  I  do? 

Get  me  another  one;  skip-tum-i-loo. 

If  I  can’t  get  a  jaybird,  a  redhead  will  do;  etc. 

D 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Annie  Reedy;  1909) 

Lead  ’em  up  and  lead  ’em  down;  etc. 

Swing  her  on  the  corner;  etc. 

Sweetheart  skipped  me;  etc. 

Black-eyed  pretty  one;  etc. 

2.  SHOOT  THE  BUFFALO* 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  R.  J.  Slay;  1909) 

The  boys  will  plough  and  hoe. 

And  the  girls  will  sit  and  sew. 

And  we’ll  circle  in  the  canebrake. 

And  shoot  the  buffalo. 

Chorus 

Oh!  we’ll  shoot  the  buffalo;  (twice) 

We’ll  circle  through  the  canebrake. 

And  shoot  the  buffalo. 

The  girls  will  sit  and  spin. 

And  the  boys  will  fight  like  men;* 

And  we’ll  circle  through  the  canebrake. 

And  shoot  the  buffalo. 

^  When  the  fore-singer  hesitates  to  choose,  the  crowd  sings,  "Stand  like  a  fool,”  etc. 
*  A  dance-game  common  also  in  East  Tennessee. 

‘  Rhyming  with  "spin.”  In  southern  Alabama  and  southern  Mississippi,  all  short  c’s 
are  pronounced  as  short  i  in  "pin.” 


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Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


3.  MOLLY,  PUT  THE  KETTLE  ON  ^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

Molly,  put  the  kittle  on,  {thrice) 

En’  less  have  tea. 

Molly,  put  the  kittle  on, 

Jenny,  blow  the  dinner-horn, 

Molly,  put  the  kittle  on, 

En’  less  have  tea. 

Slice  the  bread  an’  butter  fine. 

Slice  enough  fer  forty-nine, 

Molly,  put  the  kittle  on, 

En’  less  have  tea. 


4.  LOVE  HAS  WON  THE  DAY* 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 


Go  forth  en’  face  yer  lover,  {thrice) 

Fer  love  has  won  the  day. 

He  kneels  because  he  loves  yer,  etc. 

He  measures  his  love  to  show  yer,  etc. 

It  breaks  his  heart  to  leave  yer,  etc. 


B 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Sims;  1909) 

We’re  marching  round  the  levy. 

For  we  have  gained  the  day. 

Go  in  and  out  the  window,  etc. 

Go  forth  and  chase  your  lover,  etc. 

I  measure  my  love  to  show  you,  etc. 

One  kiss  before  I  leave  you,  etc. 

*  I  have  not  seen  in  print  these  stanzas  of  the  well-known  song.  They  are  used  in  the 
game  called  ‘‘Drop  the  Handkerchief.”  The  players,  holding  hands,  move  in  a  circle, 
their  faces  toward  the  centre.  A  girl  stands  on  the  outside  of  the  circle,  and  drops  her 
handkerchief  behind  some  boy.  As  soon  as  he  sees  it,  he  leaves  his  place  in  the  circle 
and  chases  the  girl,  who  attempts  to  run  around  the  group  and  get  back  to  the  place  left 
vacant  by  the  boy.  If  the  boy  catches  the  girl  before  she  reaches  this  place,  he  kisses  her. 

A  version  of  Round  about  the  Village”  (Gomme,  Traditional  Games,  vol.  ii.  p.  122), 
though  the  music  is  different.  Cf.  also  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xv,  p.  195 
(Florida),  and  Berea  Quarterly  (October,  1910),  p.  28,  with  this  characteristic  verse,  ‘‘I’ll 
break  my  neck,  or  kiss  you.” 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


139 


5.  GREEN  GRAVEL^ 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  recitation  of  Mrs.  Brown;  1909) 

Green  gravel,  green  gravel,  how  green  the  grass  grows, 

That  all  the  fern  nations  are  ashamed  to  be  seen. 

Miss  Mary,  Miss  Mary,  your  true-love  is  dead; 

He  sent  you  a  letter;  so  turn  back  your  head! 

6.  CHARLOTTE  TOWN 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  recitation  of  Mrs.  Brown;  1909) 

Charlotte  Town  is  burnin’  down. 

Good-by!  good-by! 

Burning  down  to  the  groun’. 

Good-by!  good-by! 

Oh,  ain’t  yuh  mighty  sorry? 

Good-by!  good-by! 

Oh,  ain’t  yuh  might  sorry? 

Good-by!  good-by. 

7.  RING  AROUND  THE  ROSES* 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

Ring  around  the  roses, 

A  bottle  full  uv  posies. 

Squat  by  Joses. 

8.  JOLLY  MILLER* 

(From  East  Tennessee;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 

Hands  on  the  hopper,  en’  hands  on  the  slab; 

En’  every  time  yer  turn  aroun’,  grab,  boys,  grab! 

9.  I  LOST  MY  GLOVE  ^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 

I  lost  my  glove  yestiddy,  en’  found  it  to-day; 

’Twas  all  full  uv  mud,  en’  I  flung  it  away. 

*  Given,  in  a  slightly  different  version,  in  Gomme  {Traditional  Games,  vol.  i,  p.  171). 
Judge  C.  B.  Seymour,  Louisville,  Ky.,  says,  “I  played  it  nearly  sixty  years  ago.”  He 
gives  as  his  version :  — 

"Green  gravel,  green  gravel,  the  grass  grows  so  green; 

Free  mason,  free  mason,  ashamed  to  be  seen,”  etc., 
where  "free  mason”  is  a  corruption  for  “fair  maiden.”  "Gravel,”  he  suggests,  is  the 
diminutive  of  “grave.”  “The  children  ages  ago  forgot  that  they  were  playing  funeral, 
and  walking  around  the  little  grave  of  the  fair  maiden,  and  one  by  one  turning  away.” 

*  The  players,  holding  hands,  move  in  a  circle.  At  the  word  “squat,”  all  sit  down. 
The  last  one  down  is  made  to  tell  his  sweetheart’s  name.  This  is  done  sometimes  by  forcing 
him  to  answer  the  following  question:  “If  you  had  on  top  of  the  house  Mary  A.  and 
Nellie  B.  and  Fanny  C.,  which  one  would  you  throw  down  and  break  her  neck?  which 
would  you  leave  for  the  buzzards  to  eat?  and  which  would  you  bring  down  in  your  pocket?” 

*  A  version  of  the  well-known  game  of  “The  Jolly  Miller.”  Cf.  Gomme,  /.  c.,  vol.  i,  p. 
290. 

*  Played  as  “Drop  the  Handkerchief”  is  played. 


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Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


10.  AMONG  THE  LILY-WHITE  DANDIES 

(From  Virginia;  children  in  Richmond;  MS.  of  Mrs.  Longest;  1909) 

What  would  you  give  to  know  her  name,^ 

Know  her  name,  know  her  name? 

What  would  you  give  to  know  her  name 
Among  the  lily-white  dandies? 

Mary  is  her  first  name, 

First  name,  first  name, 

Mary  is  her  first  name 

Among  the  lily-white  dandies. 

Smith  is  her  last  name. 

Last  name,  etc. 

What  would  you  give  to  know  his  name. 

Know  his  name,  etc. 

John  is  his  first  name. 

First  name,  etc. 

Jones  is  his  last  name. 

Last  name,  etc. 

Now  poor  John  is  dead  and  gone. 

Dead  and  gone,  etc. 

Left  poor  Mary  a  widow 
A  widow,  etc. 

Where  shall  we  bury  him, 

Bury  him,  etc. 

Up  in  the  cookoo-yard, 

Cookoo-yard,  etc. 

Twenty-four  lilies  at  his  feet. 

At  his  feet,  etc. 

II.  FROG  IN  THE  MIDDLE* 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

Frog  in  the  middle,  en’  'e  can’t  get  out; 

Take  a  little  stick  en’  stir  ’im  about. 

12.  I  SPY* 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

A  bushel  er  wheat  en’  er  bushel  er  rye; 

All  ain’t  ready,  holler  “1.” 

1  For  this  line,  cf.  Gomme,  1.  c.,  vol.  ii,  p.  84. 

’  A  well-known  game,  in  which  the  one  in  the  middle  of  the  circle  slips  out  while  the 
players  have  their  eyes  shut,  and  hides.  Cf.  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iii,  p.  80. 

*  For  other  versions,  cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  iv,  p.  226;  vol.  vi,  p.  13I. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


141 


A  bushel  er  wheat,  er  bushel  er  clover; 

All  ain’t  hid  can’t  hide  over. 

One,  two,  three,  look  out  fer  me!* 

I’m  coming! 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

A  bushel  of  wheat  and  a  bushel  of  oats; 

All  that  ain’t  hid,  holler  “Billy  goat!’’ 

C 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Ben  Bell;  1908) 

Bushel  of  wheat  and  a  bushel  of  rye; 

All  in  three  feet  of  my  base  I  spy. 

D 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  M.  T.  Aldrich;  1908) 

One,  two,  three,  look  out  for  me! 

I’m  going  to  find  you,  wherever  you  be. 

One,  two,  three,  look  out  for  me! 

You’d  better  hide  before  I  can  see. 

One,  two,  three,  look  out  for  me! 

I  see  you  behind  that  big  tree. 

All  that  ain’t  hid  will  say  “I;’’ 

Those  that  are  hid,  please  don’t  lie. 

13.  WILLIAM  TRIMBLETOE* 

A 

(From  Virginia;  white  children;  from  memory;  1909) 

Rimety,  trimety,  he’s  a  good  man. 

Ketches  hens  an’  puts  ’em  in  pens; 

Some  lay  eggs,  an’  some  don’t. 

Wire  brier,  limber  lock 

Sits  an’  sings  till  twelve  o’clock; 

0-U-T  spells  out. 

With  —  his  —  long  —  snout. 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  country  children,  white;  from  recitation  of  C.  Longest;  1909) 

William  Trimbletoe,  he’s  a  good  fisherman, 

Kitches  bins  an’  puts  ’em  in  pins; 

Some  lay  iggs,  an’  some  none. 

1  In  the  game  of  “Hiding  the  Switch,”  the  hider  uses  the  words  “Bread  and  butter, 
come  to  supper,”  to  call  the  others  to  the  search.  Cf.  Gomme,  1.  c.,  vol.  i.  p.  353. 

*  Cf.  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iii,  p.  388.  For  a  study  of  counting-out  rhymes,  cf.  Journal 
of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  i,  p.  31. 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


Wire  brier,  limber  lock, 

Three  geese  in  a  flock; 

Some  flew  east,  an’  some  flew  wist. 
An’  some  flew  over  the  cuckoo’s  nist. 
0-U-T  spills  out. 

You  old  dirty  dish-clout. 

You  go! 


14.  ENY  MENY  MINY  MO 

A 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909) 

Eny  meny  miny  mo^ 

Catch  a  nigger  by  the  toe; 

If  he  hollers,  let  him  go, 

Eny  meny  miny  mol 

Eny  meny  miny  mol 
Catch  a  nigger  by  the  toe; 

If  he  hollers,  make  him  pay 
Fifty  dollars  every  day. 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  J.  R.  Anderson;  1909) 

Eny  meny  miny  mo! 

Crack  a  fenny,  finny,  fo! 

Um  a  wootsy,  pop  a  tootsy, 

Rick,  stick,  band,  do! 

15.  WUN  A  ME  NOORY® 

(From  Virginia;  Richmond  children;  recitation  of  Mrs.  Longest;  1909) 

Wun  a  me  noory,  ikka  me  Ann. 

Fillis  an  follis,  Nicholas,  Jan. 

Weever,  wover,  queever,  quover, 

Sinktum,  Sanktum,  Buck. 

16.  THE  OLD  WOMAN* 

A 

(From  Pennsylvania;  Quakers;  recitation  of  Mrs.  C.  Brown;  1909) 

There  was  an  old  woman  all  skin  an’  bones  .  .  . 

M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m, 

An’  she  went  to  the  church  .  .  . 

M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m- 

An’  when  she  got  to  the  stile. 

She  thought  she’d  rest  a  while. 

An’  when  she  got  to  the  door. 

She  thought  she’d  rest  a  little  more. 

This  stanza  has  been  printed  many  times.  ' 

Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  i,  p.  31. 

Cf.  Halliwell,  No.  Ixxxix.  This  rhyme  is  known  traditionally  also  in  East  Tennessee. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


143 


An’  when  she  came  within  the  door, 

She  saw  a  dead  man  on  the  floor —  Boo! 

B 

(From  Kentucky;  whites;  MS.  of  C.  B.  Seymour;  1912) 

There  was  an  old  crone  lived  all  alone, 

Just  like  unto  another  old  crone. 

She  went  unto  the  church  one  day 
To  hear  the  parson  preach  and  pray. 

She  look-ed  up,  she  look-ed  down; 

She  saw  a  corp^  upon  the  groun’. 

She  look-ed  unto  the  parson,  and  said, 

“Shall  I  look  so  when  I  am  dead?’’ 

The  parson  look-ed  to  her,  and  said, 

“You  will  look  so  when  you  are  dead.’’ 

She  look-ed  unto  the  parson,  and  said, 

“Bool’’ 

17.  OLD  MARIAH^ 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  W.  C.  Stokes) 

Old  Mariah  jumped  in  the  fire; 

The  fire  was  so  hot,  she  jumped  in  the  pot; 

The  pot  was  so  black,  she  jumped  in  the  crack; 

The  crack  was  so  high,  she  jumped  in  the  sky; 

The  sky  was  so  blue,  she  jumped  in  the  canoe; 

The  canoe  was  so  deep,  she  jumped  in  the  creek; 

The  creek  was  so  shallow,  she  jumped  in  the  tallow; 

The  tallow  was  so  hard,  she  jumped  in  the  lard; 

The  lard  was  so  soft,  she  jumped  in  the  loft; 

The  loft  was  so  rotten,  she  jumped  in  the  cotton; 

The  cotton  was  so  white,  she  staid  all  night. 

18.  THE  SWAPPING  SONG  ® 

(From  Kentucky;  country  whites;  MS.  sent  Mrs.  Ewing  Marshall  from  Western 

Kentucky;  1912) 

When  I  was  a  little  boy,  I  lived  by  myself. 

And  all  the  bread  and  cheese  I  had  I  left  upon  the  shelf. 

Chorus 

Turn  a  wing,  wong,  waddle-ding, 

A  Jack  Straw,  straddle-ding, 

A  John  fair,  faddle  ding, 

A  long  ways  home. 

'  The  use  of  the  word  “corp"  seems  archaic.  I  believe  the  form  "corp”  is  not  used 
outside  of  Northumberland. 

*  A  rhyme  of  similar  character  is  found  in  Gomme,  1.  c.,  vol.  ii,  p.  223. 

*  Of  course  the  first  four  stanzas  are  traditional  from  the  well-known  nursery  rhyme; 
but  the  rest  have  been  added  by  the  minstrel.  The  theme  of  swapping  for  things  of  less 
value  is  found  frequently  in  folk-tales. 


144 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


The  rats  and  mice  did  give  me  such  a  life, 

I  had  to  go  to  London  to  get  me  a  wife. 

The  creeks  were  so  wide,  and  the  streets  were  so  narrow, 
And  I  had  to  bring  ’er  home  on  an’  old  wheelbarrow. 

My  foot  slipped  and  I  got  a  fall. 

And  away  went  wheelb’ar,  wife,  and  all. 

I  swapped  my  wheelb’ar  and  got  a  hoss, 

And  then  I  rode  from  Cross  to  Cross. 

I  swapped  my  hoss  and  got  me  a  mare, 

And  then  I  rode  from  tare  to  tare. 

I  swapped  my  mare  and  got  me  a  mule. 

And  then  I  rode  like  a  dog-on  fool. 

I  swapped  my  mule  and  got  me  a  cow. 

And  in  that  trade  I  just  learned  how. 

I  swapped  my  cow  and  got  me  a  calf. 

And  in  that  trade  I  just  lost  half. 

I  swapped  my  calf  and  got  me  a  sheep. 

And  then  I  rode  till  I  went  to  sleep. 

I  swapped  my  sheep  and  got  me  a  hen. 

And  law!  what  a  pretty  thing  I  had  then! 

I  swapped  my  hen  and  got  me  a  rat. 

And  I  sat  it  on  a  haystack  to  little  cat. 

I  swapped  my  rat  and  got  me  a  mole. 

And  the  dog-on  thing  went  straight  to  its  hole! 


19.  OLD  GRIMES 

(From  Kentucky;  whites;  from  singing  of  Mrs.  Helm;  1912) 


1 


i 


=i=t 


-N-4- 


■i—0 


Old  Grimes  is  dead  and  laid  in  his  grave, 
H-m-m,  laid  in  his  grave. 

The  apple-tree  came  up  and  grew  o’er  his  head, 
H-m-m,  grew  o’er  his  head. 


The  bridle  and  saddle  are  laid  on  the  shelf,  etc. 

If  you  want  any  more,  you  can  sing  it  yourself,  etc. 


20.  LITTLE  BOY^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1909) 

Little  boy,  little  boy,  wher’d  yer  get  yer  britches? 

“Daddy  cut  ’um  out,  en’  mammy  sewed  the  stitches.’’ 

*  Cf.  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iii,  p.  294  (Alabama).  I  have  this  reported  also  from  Mis¬ 
sissippi. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


HS 


21.  SEE-SAW  1 

(From  Wisconsin;  Madison  children;  1909) 

See-saw,  buckety-waw,  for  my  lady’s  daughter; 

Give  her  a  ring  and  a  silver  spoon,  and  let  my  lady  come  under. 
Finger  in  the  sugar-bowl!  {shouted) 

22.  SCHOOL  BUTTER* 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 

School  butter!  chicken  flutter  (or  fudder) ! 

Rotten  eggs  fer  yer  daddy’s  supper! 


IV.  RELIGIOUS  SONGS,  AND  PARODIES  OF  RELIGIOUS  SONGS 


I.  WHEN  THE  LAST  TRUMPET  SHALL  SOUND® 


i 


* 


(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 


m 


* 


=P= 


D.a 


-Ur 


1 


t- 


, _ 

i — p-  1 

rzx - 1 - N— 

i - d - ^ — 

-0 - H - * - * - J - J - #L - 

“1— n 

i - S - «— 

— t/— 51 — ^ ^ — »L_ 

^ y 

^  Cf.  Halliwell,  No.  ccv;  Gomme,  1.  c.,  vol.  i,  p.  100;  vols.  vii,  xii,  II,  185. 

2  A  cry  of  defiance  to  a  boy  who  is  disgraced  by  having  to  go  to  school.  Any  school¬ 
boy  will  fight  anybody,  no  matter  what  his  size,  who  calls  “School  butter”  to  him. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  note  here,  also,  that  the  school-children  in  Tennessee  converse 
with  each  other  in  certain  languages  supposedly  secret.  Dog  Latin  is  of  two  varieties: 
(i)  A  language  made  by  the  addition  of  the  syllables  “-bus”  and  “-um”  to  English  words; 
and  (2)  a  language  made  by  the  spelling  of  each  word  with  an  alphabet  in  which  the 
consonants  are  disguised  by  adding  the  vowel  “a”  and  the  consonant  itself ,  or  by  adding 
the  vowel  “o”  followed  by  “y.”  So  the  word  “run”  would  be  pronounced,  “rar-u-nan.” 
Both  varieties  of  Dog  Latin  are  hard  to  follow  when  they  are  spoken  rapidly;  but  the 
children  who  practise  them  easily  understand  them. 

Of  interest,  also,  are  the  mnemonics  used  in  the  country  singing-schools  for  the  several 
major  keys.  “Girls  Dread  All  Evil  Boys  First”  indicates  by  successive  initials  the  name 
of  the  corresponding  key  for  the  sharps,  and  “Four  Boys  Eat  Apple  Dumplings  Greedily” 
serves  for  the  flats. 

*  One  of  the  most  promising  fields  for  the  investigator  of  the  subject  of  communal 
composition  is  that  of  the  religious  revivals  that  are  held  every  year  in  the  mountains  of 
East  Tennessee.  The  people  there  are  of  a  decidedly  religious  temperament.  At  least  once 
a  year,  every  church  has  a  big  “meetin’.”  The  preacher  usually  delivers,  on  these  occasions, 
an  interminable  amount  of  what  seems  to  the  uninitiated  a  mass  of  emotional  rant.  If 
there  is  more  than  one  preacher  present,  each  of  them  is  expected  to  preach  a  sermon.  I 
have  known  services  to  last  from  half-past  ten  to  half-past  two  on  Sundays.  Sometimes 
the  evening  services  are  prolonged  until  nearly  daybreak.  Sometimes  two  or  three 
exhorters  are  talking  at  one  time.  Often  the  sermons  are  not  very  intelligible;  but  the 
seed  falls  on  good  ground,  and  soon  the  whole  congregation  is  in  an  uproar  of  religious 
frenzy.  I  have  seen,  at  these  meetings,  dozens  of  people  on  the  floor  at  one  time,  wildly 


VOL.  XXVI. — NO.  100.  — 10. 


146 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


I  hope  to  meet  my  father  there; 

When  the  las’  trumpet  shell  saoun’,  I’ll  be  there! 

Who  used  to  kneel  with  me  in  prayer: 

When  the  las’  trumpet  shell  saoun’,  I’ll  be  there! 

I’ll  be  there!  I’ll  be  there! 

I’ll  be  there!  I’ll  be  there! 

When  the  las’  trumpet  shell  saoun’,  I’ll  be  there! 

I  hope  to  meet  my  mother  there: 

{So  on,  through  brother,  sister,  neighbor,  preacher,  etc.) 

gesticulating,  and  at  the  top  of  their  voices  shouting  the  praises  of  the  Lord.  This  sort 
of  thing  is  often  kept  up  for  hours,  usually  until  the  shouters,  especially  the  women,  are 
exhausted  almost  to  the  point  of  fainting,  although  fainting  is  an  accomplishment  of  which 
these  sturdy  mountain- wo  men  know  little. 

All  sorts  of  queer  doctrines  flourish  among  these  people.  A  few  years  ago  the  Sanctified 
Band  began  to  get  a  hold  among  them.  The  Sanctificationists  teach  that  there  is  a 
second  blessing,  or  work  of  grace,  without  which  one  cannot  be  saved.  This  blessing  has  the 
added  advantage  of  enabling  its  possessor  to  live  a  holy  and  sinless  life.  The  mountain- 
folk  were  slow  to  take  hold  of  this  doctrine;  and  its  introduction  was  bitterly  opposed, 
even  to  the  point  of  violence.  But  in  some  localities  it  prospered,  and  its  converts  were 
now  as  violent  in  its  defence  as  formerly  they  had  been  in  opposing  it.  I  remember  one 
meeting,  held  near  my  home,  in  which  straw  was  strewn  on  the  floor  for  the  seekers  to 
kneel  in,  and  for  the  purpose  of  providing  a  place  for  those  already  sanctified  to  “die”  for 
their  friends,  even  as  Jesus  died  for  sinners.  This  latter  performance  consists'  in  falling 
into  a  trance,  and  remaining  in  such  a  condition  for  some  hours;  the  time,  of  course, 
varying  with  the  hard-heartedness  of  the  one  for  whom  the  exertion  is  made.  This  is 
said  to  be  one  of  the  most  powerful  means  of  reclaiming  sinners.  I  know  of  one  girl  who 
lay  as  dead,  in  such  a  trance,  for  eight  hours.  Another  group  was  possessed  of  and  prac¬ 
tised  the  “holy  dance.”  The  native  preachers  are  universal  in  their  opposition  to  education- 
They  believe  that  when  they  open  their  mouths,  the  Lord  will  take  care  to  fill  them  with  a 
true  message.  Education  is  regarded  as  a  kind  of  sin.  The  Hard-shell  Baptists  are 
divided  into  two  groups,  —  the  one-seeders  and  the  two-seeders.  The  latter  believe  that 
some  men  are  born  of  God,  and  will  be  saved,  regardless  of  their  actions;  others  are  natu¬ 
rally  of  the  seed  of  the  Devil,  and  can  never  be  saved,  no  matter  how  much  they  may  seek 
God.  Matters  of  religion  are  of  universal  concern.  It  is  seldom  that  a  group  of  mountain- 
folk  get  together  without  discussing  doctrinal  questions,  and  reasoning  high  of  Providence, 
foreknowledge,  and  other  such  Puritan  subjects.  For  the  mountain-folk  are  thoroughly 
conversant  with  the  Bible,  and  woe  to  the  missionary  who  comes  among  them  unmindful 
of  its  words.  “Whut  do  yer  mean!”  angrily  said  a  leader  of  a  mountain-clan  to  a  friend 
of  mine  who  was  teaching  school  in  his  neighborhood  last  summer,  “Whut  do  yer  mean  by 
tellin’  my  children  that  the  world  is  round  and  the  sun  stands  still?  Do  yer  not  know  that 
the  Bible  says  Joshuay  made  the  sun  stand  still?  It  must  move,  then.  And  do  yer  not 
know  that  the  Bible  speaks  of  the  four  corners  of  the  yearth  and  the  eends  of  the  yearth? 
How,  then,  can  yer  say  it  is  round?  Yer  ought  ter  hev  little  Joshuay  dawwn  thar  in 
yer  school,  en’  larn  him  sump’n’l”  The  country  debating-societies  usually  concern  them¬ 
selves  with  moral  or  biblical  questions.  I  know  of  one  case  where  a  four-days’  debate  was 
held  between  what  Baptist  and  Methodist  preachers  could  be  collected  for  the  occasion. 
The  subject  of  dispute  was  the  proper  form  of  baptism.  Large  and  appreciative  crowds 
listened  to  the  arguments  for  the  four  days,  and  went  home,  each  side  believing  the  more 
firmly  in  its  former  position. 

When  religious  revivals  are  in  progress,  all  differences  of  locality  and  all  family  grudges 
are,  for  the  time  being,  wiped  out.  Those  who  attend  become  a  homogeneous  throng,  a 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


147 


2.  RISE,  MOURNER,  RISE 


(From  Fast  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 


H 

— Pv- 

A  - f- - 1 - 

r*  • — • - ^ - - 1 B 

fj 

- s - 0 - - 

~m  •  M  M  •  m - r  "< - r 

— * — * - • — « — y— 

n 

; - t=t - 1  t  f 

=l=q=n 

bk 

tj 

±- 

Yes,  I  raly  dew  believe,  jes’  before  the  end  uv  time. 
We  shell  hyeur  the  angels  sing  in  thet  mornin’; 

Rise,  mourner,  rise,i  en’  go  meet  ’em  in  the  skies, 
Fer  we’ll  hyeur  the  angels  sing  in  thet  mornin’. 


3.  ON  heaven’s  bright  shore  2 


(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 


1 

- m _ m  j 

M  4 - 1  J q 

- - 

LL 

^  9 

± — « 

S  m - • — 

•  1 

-> 

“H 

^ 1 — ;r— 1 - h-i 

4 

t - — t - 1 - 

ifr  l  f..  ^ 

U 

We  have  fathers  gone  to  glory,  {thrice) 

Gone  to  Heaven’s  bright  shore; 

Some  bright  day  we’ll  go  en’  jine  ’em  {thrice) 

On  Heaven’s  bright  shore, 

unit  in  thought  and  purpose.  In  such  meetings  they  must  have  singing.  But  sometimes 
books  are  lacking,  or  the  memory  of  the  brother  who  raised  the  song  fails  him.  On  such 
occasions  (rare  enough  in  the  last  few  years),  we  have  the  miracle  and  das  Volk  dichtet, 
one  fore-singer  after  another  taking  up  the  hymn,  and  adding  his  own  contribution  to  the 
melting-pot. 

Of  such  communal  origin  are,  without  question,  the  group  of  songs  that  run  a  sentiment 
through  the  entire  list  of  relatives  and  neighbors.  They  sometimes  find  their  way  up 
into  printed  hymn-book  versions;  but  one  never  sees  the  name  of  the  author.  They 
have  come  from  the  heart  of  the  folk. 

1  The  mourner  is,  of  course,  kneeling  with  his  head  bowed  at  the  mourner’s  bench.  Cf. 
the  negro  hymn  quoted  by  Mrs.  Cheshire  under  II,  of  this  article,  No.  35. 

‘‘Jes’  look  yonder  what  I  see; 

Angels  bid  me  ter  come  — 

See  two  angels  callin’  me; 

Angels  bid  me  ter  come. 

“Rise  an’  shine,  mourner,  {thrice) 

Fur  de  angels  bid  'er  me  ter  come.’’ 

*  Cf.  Berea  Quarterly  (October,  1910),  p.  29. 


148 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 

4.  THE  PROMISED  LAND 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  190S) 

I  have  a  father  in  the  Promised  Land,  {thrice) 

Way  over  in  the  Promised  Land. 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  American  Indians;  recitation  of  Mr,  C.  Longest;  1909) 

I  have  a  father  in  the  prag-a-nat-a-la,^  {twice) 

Ni  yai  yo,  niji  naiji  prag,  coji  privi  in  the  praganatala. 

Je-we-ji  privi  in  the  prag-a-nat-a-la,  {twice) 

Ni  yai  yo,  niji  naiji  prag,  coji  privi  in  the  prag-a-nat-a-la. 

5.  THE  OLD-TIME  RELIGION* 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

’Tis  the  ole-time  religion,  {thrice) 

En’  it’s  good  enough  fer  me. 

It  was  good  fer  our  fathers, 

En’  it’s  good  enough  fer  me. 

It  was  good  fer  our  mothers,  etc, 

{So,  through  all  the  family  relations) 

It  was  good  fer  our  preacher,  etc. 

It  was  good  fer  our  neighbors,  etc. 

1  The  letters  in  these  Indian  words  have  the  sounds  given  them  in  the  alphabet  used 
by  the  American  Dialect  Society.  For  a  similar  Indian  song,  see  Journal  of  American 
Folk-Lore,  vol.  xx,  p.  236.  Mr.  U.  H.  Smith  gives  me,  from  the  country  whites  of  Indiana 
(1908),  the  refrain  from  a  hymn:  — 

“  I  have  a  father  in  that  kingdom, 

Sittin’  on  the  seat  with  Jesus.” 

A  friend  of  Miss  Heft  reports  from  Thomasville,  Ky.,  this  negro  version;  — 

“My  Lord  called  me  and  I  mus’  go 
Way  over  in  the  Promised  Land; 

I  got  a  mother  in  the  Promised  Land, 

I  expect  to  meet  her  and  shake  her  hand 
Way  over  in  the  Promised  Land.” 

*  Versions  of  this  have  been  printed  in  hymn-books;  but  the  origin  seems  popular. 
Each  locality  has  its  own  stanzas.  The  last  two  lines  show  an  accretion  that  came  lately 
in  Grainger  County,  Tennessee.  The  Sanctificationists  taught  that  the  use  of  tobacco  is 
a  sin.  Many  people,  under  the  stress  of  their  religious  feelings,  gave  it  up.  The  stanza 
records  their  feeling.  Cf.  also  the  popular  rhyme;  — 

“I  do  not  use  the  filthy  weed; 

I  hate  the  man  that  sowed  the  seed.” 

I  remember  distinctly  when  the  last  stanza  was  composed.  There  had  been  a  heavy  rain, 
and  only  the  extremely  devout  had  ventured  up  the  mountain-streams  that  serve  regularly 
for  roads.  But  these  sang,  after  they  reached  the  church,  — 

“Makes  me  wade  the  mud  to  meetin’.” 


149 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


It  was  good  fer  Paul  an’  Silas,  etc. 

{So,  through  any  number  of  Bible  characters) 

It  was  tried  in  the  fiery  furnace,  etc. 

It  was  tried  in  the  den  of  lions,  etc. 

Makes  me  love  everybody,  etc. 

Makes  me  happy,  soul  en’  body,  etc. 

Makes  me  want  to  go  to  Heaven,  etc. 

Makes  me  hate  the  snuff  en’  the  dipper,  etc. 

Makes  me  wade  the  mud  to  meetin’,  etc. 

6.  OLE-TIME  CO’n  LICKER^ 

(From  South  Carolina;  negroes;  MS.  of  H.  M.  Bryan;  1909) 

Give  me  that  ol’-time  co’n  licker,  {thrice) 

It’s  good  enough  fer  me. 

It  was  good  enough  fer  father,  etc. 

It  was  made  in  Hickory  hollow,  etc. 

It’s  good  enough  fer  the  mountains,  etc. 

It’ll  cost  you  two  per  gallon,  etc. 

It’ll  make  you  feel  like  fightin’,  etc. 

7.  I  FOUND  A  PEANUT* 

(From  Mississippi;  college-boys;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1908) 

I  found  a  peanut,  {twice) 

I  found  a  peanut  just  now, 

(Just  now  I  found  a  peanut, 

I  found  a  peanut  just  now). 

• 

Where  did  you  find  it?  etc. 

What  did  you  do  with  it?  etc. 

I  broke  it  open,  etc. 

What  was  in  it?  etc. 

It  was  empty,  etc. 

*  Of  course,  the  profane  are  constantly  making  parodies  of  the  genuinely  religious  songs. 
This  represents  the  negroes  as  “  celebrating  the  licker.” 

*  Here  we  see  the  college-boys  parodying  and  building  up  by  communal  composition 
something  like  a  story.  This  was  sung  to  the  tune  of  ‘‘Come  to  Jesus,”  a  song  which  is 
itself  of  folk-origin,  I  think. 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


150 


8.  SINNERS  WILL  CRY 


(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 


Sinners  will  cry  fer  the  rocks  in  the  mountains,  {thrice) 
When  the  las’  trumpet  shell  saoun’. 


9.  YOU  MUST  BE  BORND  AGIN 


(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 


You  must  be  bornd  agin,  agin; 

You  must  be  bornd  agin; 

Without  a  change,  you  can’t  be  saved; 
You  must  be  bornd  agin. 


10.  I  AM  GOING  TO  THE  GRAVE  TO  SLEEP 
(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 


D.C. 


Fine. 


I  am  goin’  tew  the  grave  tew  sleep. 


Tew  sleep  that  sleep,  that  long,  sweet  sleep; 
I  am  goin’  tew  the  grave  to  sleep. 


II.  THE  ram’s  horn  BLOWED 
(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

The  ram’s  horn  blowed;  the  children  did  shout; 

The  winders  flew  open,  en’  they  all  looked  out. 

O  John!  sing  hallelulyer! 

O  John!  sing  hallelulyer! 

Fer  the  spirit  uv  the  Lord  has  fell  upon  me. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 

We  took  the  little  baby  to  the  new  buryin’-groun’ 
En’  there  we  laid  its  little  body  down, 

O  John!  sing  hallelulyer! 

O  John!  sing  hallelulyer! 

Fer  the  spirit  uv  the  Lord  has  fell  upon  me. 

12,  huntin’  a  home  to  go  to 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

When  I  was  young  en’  a  mourner  like  you, 

I  was  huntin’  a  home  to  go  to; 

I  never  stopped  till  I  got  through,^ 

I  was  huntin’  a  home  to  go  to. 


13.  LORD,  I  WANT  MORE  RELIGION 
(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 


- - * - 

tJ  - ‘ - 

— r  T' — i - r 

— 

■■M  ; - - 1 - 

Tzf— 

$  5- — t/ — f- — ^ — J — J- — \ - 

w - * — ^ 

=1= 

^  ±~ — ^ ^  „ 
-JJ  g  #  u. 

- - -rzn - 

- 

^  ^  s' - ^ 

- ^ - (N - 

* — It— 

^  r  1  11 

— J- — • - K- 

tT  ^ 

Religion  makes  me  happy,  en’  then  I  want  to  go 
To  leave  this  world  of  sorrer  en’  trouble  hyeur  below. 

Lord,  I  want  more  religion  {thrice) 

To  help  me  on  to  God. 

14.  METHODIST 

(From  Virginia;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 

Methodist,  Methodist,  while  I  live, 

Methodist  till  I  die; 

Been  baptized  in  the  faith. 

An’  fed  on  Methodist  pie. 

15.  MATTHEW,  MARK,  LUKE,  AND  JOHN* 

(From  Virginia;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 

Matthew,  Mark,  Luke,  and  John, 

Saddle  the  cat,  an’  I’ll  get  on; 

Gimme  a  stick,  an’  I’ll  lay  on; 

Open  the  gate,  an’  I’ll  be  gone. 

*  The  technical  term  for  “getting  religion.” 

*  Evidently  a  mnemonic  for  remembering  the  evangelists.  Cf.  Halliwell,  No.  Httt, 
and  Chambers,  p.  149. 


152 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


16.  NEBUCHADNEZZAR 

A 

(From  Virginia;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1912) 

Nebuchadnezzar,  the  king  of  the  Jews, 

Bought  his  grandmother  a  new  pair  of  shoes. 

B 

(From  Massachusetts;  Boston;  1912) 

Nebuchadnezzar,  the  king  of  the  Jews, 

Took  off  his  stockings  and  spit  in  his  shoes. 

17.  HICKORY  STEEPLE 
(From  Kentucky;  whites;  1912) 

Ez  I  wuz  goin’  to  Hickory  Steeple, 

There  I  met  some  cullud  people; 

Some  wuz  black,  en’  some  wu*  blackuh, 

En’  some  wuz  black  ez  a  chaw  uv  terbacuh. 

18.  JESSE  COLE^ 

(From  Kentucky;  mountain  whites;  taken  down  from  singing  by  E.  N.  Caldwell;|^i9i2) 

To  one  and  all,  both  great  and  small,  this  story  I  will  unfold; 

It  makes  me  sad  to  think  about  the  doom  of  Jesse  Cole. 

They  lodged  him  in  the  Knoxville  jail;  it  is  a  dreadful  charge; 

He  says  that  he  is  innocent  of  killing  Samuel  Large. 

It’s  true  it’s  sad  to  think  of  such  a  death  to  die; 

Yet  men  could  shun  those  reckless  crowds,  if  they  would  only  try. 

Cole  has  a  wife  and  children  to  leave  as  many  a  man  has  done. 

Those  bloody  works  for  which  he  is  to  hang  some  other  might  have_done. 

He  says  upon  the  witness-stand  they  swore  his  life  away. 

Every  knee  shall  bow  and  tongue  confess  at  the  coming  judgment-day, 

In  the  gloomy  walls  confined  to  stay  until  that  dreadful  hour. 

And  then  his  soul  must  fly  away  to  meet  the  Higher  Power. 

All  on  that  day  his  devoted  friends  will  stand  around,  perhaps  his  troubled 
wife. 

This  enough  to  make  the  sinner  turn  to  live  a  better  life. 

Parents  teach  your  children  while  in  the  tender  years  [youth?] 

To  try  to  shun  all  evils  and  always  tell  the  truth. 

Teach  them  there  is  a  God  to  fear,  it’s  always  best  to  think,* 

Also  beware  of  gambling-cards,  and  always  shun  strong  drink. 

God  fixed  a  way  for  all  to  live;  He  suffered  on  the  cross, 

Grace  to  every  soul  he  gives;  He  would  that  none  be  lost; 

‘  A  moral  ballad  rather  than  a  hymn.  Its  source  is  not  necessarily  the  preacher.  It 
comes,  more  probably,  from  the  moral  consciousness  of  the  folk.  The  manuscript  has  the 
note,  “Composed  by  W.  M.  Day.  From  Tennessee,  Old.” 

‘  With  something  of  the  Elizabethan  sense. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


153 


Be  innocent  or  guilty,  on  God  he  must  rely: 

The  twenty-first  of  December  they  have  set  for  Cole  to  die. 

All  on  that  day  they  11  crowd  around  close  by  the  window  tent 
To  hear  the  last  words  of  a  man  whose  life  is  at  an  end.^ 

19.  I’VE  A  LONG  TIME  HEARD 


(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  J.  E.  Rankin) 


I’ve  a  long  time  heard  the  sun  will  be  bleeding, 

The  sun  will  be  bleeding,  the  sun  will  be  bleeding. 
I’ve  a  long  time  heard  the  sun  will  be  bleeding: 
Sinner,  where  will  you  stand  in  that  day? 

I’ve  a  long  time  heard  the  angels  will  be  singing,  etc. 

I’ve  a  long  time  heard  the  devils  will  be  howling,  etc. 

I’ve  a  long  time  heard  sinners  would  be  crying,  etc. 

20.  don’t  YER  hear  DEM  BELLS? 

(From  Alabama;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  O.  Scroggs;  1908) 

Wukking  all  day  in  de  cotton  an’  de  corn, 

Wid  my  feet  an’  my  ban’s  so  so’. 

Looking  fer  ole  Gab’l  to  blow  his  horn. 

So  I  won’t  hab  ter  wuk  no  mo’. 

Don’t  yer  hear  dem  bells?  (Yes,  my  Lord!) 
Don’t  yer  hear  dem  bells?  (Yes,  my  Lord!) 
Dey  are  ringin’  up  de  glory  ob  de  morn. 
Hallelujah ! 

Don’t  yer  hear  dem  bells?  (Yes,  my  Lord!) 
Don’t  yer  hear  dem  bells?  (Yes,  my  Lord!) 
Dey  are  ringin’  up  de  glory  ob  de  morn. 

21.  so  GLAD 

(From  North  Carolina;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  O.  Scroggs;  1908) 

So-o  glad !  So-o  glad ! 

What  are  you  so  glad  about? 

Sins  forgiven  an’  my  soul  sot  free! 

So-o  glad!  So-o  glad! 


*  Pronounced  regularly  "ent.  ” 


154 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


22.  SATAN’S  MAD 

A 

(From  North  Carolina;  negroes;  MS,  of  W.  O.  Scroggs;  1908) 

Satan’s  mad  and  I  am  glad;^ 

What  yer  gwine  do  when  yer  git  dere? 

He  missed  dat  soul  he  thought  he  had; 

What  yer  gwine  do  when  yer  git  dere? 

Hoe  yer  corn,  hoe  yer  corn.  Moses! 

Hoe  yer  corn! 

What  yer  gwine  do  when  yer  git  dere? 

B 

(From  Alabama;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  O.  Scroggs;  1908) 

Satan’s  mad  and  I  am  glad; 

Sunshine,  sunshine,  sunshine,  in  my  face  dis  mornin’, 

Sunshine  in  my  face. 

He  missed  dat  soul  he  thought  he  had; 

Sunshine,  sunshine,  etc. 

C 

(From  Virginia;  ?;  from  memory;  1909) 

Ole  Satan’s  got  an  iron  shoe; 

If  you  don’t  min’,  he’ll  put  it  on  you. 

23.  THE  LITTLE  ANGELS 
(From  Alabama;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  O.  Scroggs;  1908) 

Dere’s  one,  dere’s  two,  dere’s  three,  little  angels, 

Dere’s  four,  dere’s  five,  dere’s  six,  little  angels, 

Dere’s  seven,  dere’s  eight,  dere’s  nine,  little  angels, 

Dere’s  ten  little  angels  in  de  band. 

Chorus 

_  I’se  gwine  Sunday  mornin’,  {thrice) 

Sunday  mornin’  fair. 

Dere’s  ’leben,  dere’s  twelve,  thirteen,  little  angels, 

Fourteen,  fifteen,  sixteen,  little  angels, 

Sebenteen,  eighteen,  nineteen,  little  angels, 

Dere’s  twenty  little  angels  in  de  band. 

24.  o  death! 

(From  Eastern  North  Carolina;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  O.  Scroggs;  1908) 

Sinner,  I  come  to  you  by  Hebbin’s  decree; 

This  very  night  you  must  go  wid  me. 

“O-o  death!  O-o  death! 

How  kin  I  go  wid  you? 

»  Cf.  the  popular  rhyme,  which  I  have  heard  both  in  North  Carolina  and  in  Massa¬ 
chusetts:  — 

Charlie  s  mad  en’  I  am  glad,  en’  I  know  whutTl  please  him: 

A  bottle  uv  ink  fuh  him  to  drink,  en’  a  pretty  girl  to  squeeze  him.” 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 

“  Jes’  like  a  flower  in  its  bloom, 

Why  should  you  cut  me  down  so  soon? 

O-o  death!  O-o  death! 

How  kin  I  go  wid  you?” 

25.  DONE  WRIT  DOWN  YO’  NAME 
(From  Alabama;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  O.  Scroggs;  1908) 

Rise,  mourner,  rise,  and  don’t  be  ashame’; 

Per  Jesus  Christ,  de  Lamb  of  God, 

Done  writ  down  yo’  name. 

“I  believe  it!”^  {Shouted  by  the  preacher) 

Done  writ  down  yo’  name. 

” Up  in  Heaven!” 

Done  writ  down  yo’  name. 

“On  de  Lamb’s  Book!” 

Done  writ  down  yo’  name. 

I  hear  dem  bells  a-ringin’; 

It’s  time  fer  me  to  go; 

De  hebbenly  breakfast  waitin’ 

On  de  hebbenly  sho’. 

“  I  believe  it!” 

Done  writ  down  my  name.  etc. 

26.  MY  GOOD  LAWD 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  R.  J.  Slay;  1909) 

Oh,  ain’t  dat  a  mighty  wonder! 

Oh,  ain’t  dat  a  mighty  talk! 

To  see  dat  man  wid  de  palsy 
Pick  up  his  bed,  an’  walk. 

My  good  Lawd  been  here,  bless  my  soul!  an’  gone  away. 

Oh!  when  I  get’s  up  in  de  Heaben, 

Use  gwine  stan’  on  de  sea  ob  glass, 

An’  make  my  inquiration, 

Hab  I  got  home  at  last! 

27.  oh!  whar  shall  I  BE? 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 

Oh!  whar  shall  I  be  when  de  great  trumpet  soun’? 

Oh!  whar  shall  I  be  when  it  soun’  so  loud?  — 

When  it  soun’  so  loud,  de  dead  will  all  arise. 

Oh!  whar  shall  I  be  when  it  soun’? 

Oh!  whar  shall  I  be  when  de  dinner-horn  blow? 

Oh!  whar  shall  I  be  when  it  blow  so  loud?  — 

When  it  blow  so  loud,  de  hungry’ll  all  feel  proud,* 

Oh!  whar  shall  I  be  when  it  sound? 


ISS 


*  We  have  here  the  beginning  of  a  kind  of  religious  drama. 

*  “Proud”  in  the  sense  of  “happy”  is  common  in  the  South. 


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Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


28.  THIS  WORK  IS  ’most  DONE 
(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909) 
We  are  climbin’  Jacob’s  ladder,  {thrice) 

For  this  work  is  ’most  done. 

Preachers,  don’t  get  weary,  etc. 

Every  round  goes  higher,  etc. 

Brethren,  don’t  get  weary,  etc. 

Keep  your  lamps  trimmed  and  burnin’,  etc. 
Sisters,  don’t  get  weary,  etc. 

29.  MY  LORD,  HE  DIED  ON  DE  CROSS 
(From  North  Carolina;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  O.  Scroggs;  1908) 

Yonder  come  chillun  dressed  in  white 
Look  lak  de  chillun  ob  de  Israelite. 

Refrain 

My  Lord,  he  died  on  de  cross. 

Yonder  come  chillun  dressed  in  red; 

Look  lak  chillun  what  Moses  led. 

Yonder  come  chillun  dressed  in  black; 

Look  lak  de  hypercrits  turnin’  back. 


30.  pharaoh’s  army  got  drownded* 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  negroes;  from  memory;  1905) 


Who’s  dat  cornin’,  all  dressed  in  red? 

One  uh  dem  people  dat  Pharaoh  led. 

Pharaoh’s  army  got  drownded, 

O  Mary!  don’t  yuh  weep. 

1  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiii,  p.  437. 

*  "  Pharaoh’s  Army”  was  popular  all  over  the  South  some  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago. 
It  certainly  must  have  circulated  in  printed  form.  But,  even  if  its  origin  be  in  a  machine- 
made  ballad,  it  is  now  in  the  possession  of  the  folk,  and  has  had  added  to  it  some  assuredly 
popular  stanzas.  I  have  heard  a  large  number  of  more  or  less  obscene  verses  sung  to  this 
music,  such  as  those  that  follow  the  lead  of — 

“I’ve  got  a  girl  in  Baltimore; 

Street-car  runs  right  by  her  door.” 

“I’ve  got  a  gal  in  Jellico; 

She  don’t  write  to  me  no  more.” 


157 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 

O  Mary!  don  t  yuh  weep,  don’t  yuh  mone; 
Pharaoh’ll  come  en’  take  yuh  home. 
Pharaoh’s  army  got  drownded, 

O  Mary!  don’t  you  weep. 

If  I  could,  I  really  would, 

Stan  on  de  rock  where  Moses  stood. 

Pharaoh’s  army,  etc. 

Some  uh  dese  nights,  ’bout  twelve  uh  clock, 

Dis  ole  wo’l ’s  gwine  tuh  reel  an’  rock. 
Pharaoh’s  army,  etc. 


B 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909) 

If  I  could,  I  surely  would. 

Stand  on  the  rock  where  Moses  stood. 

Pharaoh’s  army  got  drowned. 

Chorus 

O  Mary!  don’t  you  weep,  don’t  you  moan,  {twice) 
Pharaoh’s  army,  got  drowned. 

O  Mary!  don’t  you  weep  no  more. 

Wake  up,  Mary,  and  turn  on  the  light; 

See  the  monkey  and  the  polecat  fight. 

Way  up  yonder,  where  the  light  shines  bright. 

They  don’t  [need]  any  electric  lights. 

You  ride  the  billy  goat  and  I  ride  the  mule; 

First  one  get  to  Heaven  can  sit  in  the  cool. 

C 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Ben  Bell;  1909) 

I  went  up  yonder  last  Saturday  night 
To  see  the  devil  and  a  tiger  fight. 

Pharaoh’s  army  got  drownded, 

O  Mary!  don’t  you  weep. 

31.  YOU  SHALL  BE  FREE 

A 

(From  South  Carolina;  negroes;  MS.  of  South  Carolina  lady;  1909) 
There  was  a  moanish  lady 
Lived  in  a  moanish  land. 

And  she  had  a  moanish  daughter. 

Who  could  moan  at  de  Lord’s  command. 

Chorus 

Moanish  lady,  an’  you  shall  be  free!^ 

Oh!  moanish  honey,  an’  you  shall  be  free! 

Oh!  moanish  nigger,  an’  you  shall  be  free, 

W’en  de  good  Lord  calls  you  home. 

^  With  this  chorus,  cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  zxiv,  p.  376. 


158 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


Oh!  warn’t  Mr.  Noah  de  foolish  man 
To  build  his  house  on  de  sinking  of  de  san’; 

Along  come  de  rain,  an’  den  come  de  hail, 

And  den  come  de  elephant  widout  any  tail. 

Funny  animal,  an’  you  shall  be  free,  etc. 

Oh!  my  gal  Sal,  she  am  de  card! 

She  wark  right  out  in  de  white  folks  yard; 

She  cook  de  goose,  and  she  gib  me  de  stuffing. 

An’  she  think  I’m  a-wukkin’ 

W’en  I  ain’t  a-doin’  nuffin’. 

Lazy  nigger,  an’  you  shall  be  free,  etc. 

Ef  you  want  to  go  to  Heben,  an’  you  don’  know  what  to  do, 
Jes’  grease  yourself  wif  a  mutton  stew; 

Along  come  de  Debbil,  an’  he  take  you  by  de  han’. 

But  you  slip  right  thru  to  the  Promise’  Lan’. 

Slippery  nigger,  an’  you  shall  be  free,  etc. 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Ben  Bell;  1909) 

If  you  want  to  go  to  Heaven,  I’ll  tell  you  what  to  do: 

Just  grease  all  over  with  a  mutton  soo.' 

Then  if  the  Devil  gets  after  you  with  his  greasy  hand, 

Just  slide  right  over  into  the  Promised  Land. 

32.  UNCLE  EPHRAIM  GOT  DE  COON 
(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  R.  J.  Slay;  1909) 

As  I  was  coming  through  my  field, 

A  black  snake  bit  me  on  de  heel; 

Dey  carried  me  home,  and  laid  me  on  de  bed; 

De  ole  folks  said,  “  Dat  nigger  is  dead.” 

Uncle  Eph’m  got  de  coon  and  gone  on,  gone  on,  gone  on. 
Uncle  Eph’m  got  de  coon  and  gone  on, 

And  left  me  watching  up  de  tree. 

What  kind  of  shoes  did  de  angels  wear. 

Slipping  and  sliding  through  de  air? 

A  great  big  shoe  and  a  gov’mint  sox: 

Just  drap  all  de  money  in  de  missionary-box. 

Uncle  Eph’m,  etc. 


33.  OLD  NOAH 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909) 

Here’s  old  Norah,^ 

Stick  him  in  the  bosom;  (thrice) 

Here’s  old  Norah,  stick  him  in  the  bosom. 

And  let  old  Norah  go. 

1  For  this  spelling,  cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiii,  p.  435. 


159 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 

Here’s  old  Norah’s  daughter, 

Stick  her  in  the  bosom;  {thrice) 

Here  s  old  Norah  s  daughter,  stick  her  in  the  bosom. 

And  let  old  Norah  go. 

Here’s  a  long  giraffe. 

Stick  him,  etc. 

Here’s  a  humped-back  camel. 

Stick  him,  etc. 

Here’s  a  great  big  elephant. 

Stick  him,  etc. 

Here’s  a  little  monkey. 

Stick  him,  etc. 

Here’s  a  big  kangaroo. 

Stick  him  in  the  bosom:  {thrice) 

The  flood  is  all  over. 

Let  old  Norah  go.^ 

34.  ADAM  WAS  THE  FIRST  MAN 
(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909) 

Adam  was  the  first  man  that  ever  was  invented; 

He  lived  all  alone,  and  he  never  grew  co[n]tented.* 

Along  come  Eve,  and  they  had  a  battle; 

Sot  up  a  tree,  and  they  fetched  down  an  apple; 

They  fetched  down  two,  and  each  took  one. 

And  ever  since  then  the  trouble  begun. 

Along  come  Noah,  stumbling  in  the  dark; 

Picked  up  a  hammer,  and  built  himself  an  ark; 

In  come  the  animals,  two  by  two,  — 

The  hippo  hippo  potumus  and  the  kikangaroo. 

35.  JONAH 

(From  Indiana;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Davidson;  1908) 

A  whale  come  along,  and  he  was  a  snorter; 

He  lifted  old  Jonah  right  out  of  the  water. 

Old  Jonah,  like  a  fool,  got  as  stubborn  as  a  mule; 

But  the  whale  made  him  quickly  disappear. 

Jonah’s  knife  out  he  drew,  and  he  cut  the  whale  in  two. 

And  he  floated  to  the  shore  on  his  ear. 

36.  THE  LORD  MADE  THE  OCEAN 
(From  Indiana;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Davidson;  1908) 

The  Lord  he  made  the  ocean. 

And  then  he  made  the  whale. 

And  then  he  made  a  raccoon 
With  a  ring  around  his  tail. 

^  The  negroes  are  very  fond  of  telling  in  verse  stories  from  the  Bible. 

*  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xii,  p.  250,  where  Adam  is  represented  as 
wanting  a  wife. 


i6o 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


37.  THE  ELEPHANT 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  J.  E.  Rankin;  1909) 

God  Almighty  made  an  elephant, 

He  made  him  big  and  stout; 

But  the  elephant  was  not  satisfied 
Till  God  Almighty  made  him  a  snout. 

38.  GOD  MADE  DE  BEE  ^ 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  negroes;  from  memory;  190S) 

God  made  de  bee,  and  de  bee  made  honey; 

God  made  man,  an’  de  man  made  money; 

God  made  Satan,  an’  Satan  made  sin; 

God  made  a  hole,  an’  rolled  Satan  in. 

B 

(From  Kentucky;  negroes;  recitation  of  Miss  Josephine  McGill;  1912) 

Satan  got  mad,  an’  said  he  wouldn’t  stay; 

God  tol’  Satan  that  he  couldn’t  get  away. 

39.  CAIN  AND  ABEL 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  MS.  given  me  by  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1912) 

Some  folks  say  that  Cain  killed  Abel;* 

Yes,  my  Lord! 

He  hit  him  in  the  head  with  the  leg  of  a  table; 

Yes,  my  Lord! 

Starry  light  and  starry  crown. 

I’ll  be  ready  when  the  worl’  turns  round. 

I’ll  be  ready,  I’ll  be  ready.  Lord; 

I’ll  be  ready  when  the  world  turns  round. 

40.  OH,  MY  soul!* 

(From  South  Carolina;  negroes;  MS.  given  me  by  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1912) 

Oh,  my  soul,  my  soul!  I’m  going  to  rest 
In  the  arms  of  the  angel  Ga-bri-el! 

An’  I’ll  climb  on  the  hill,  an’  I’ll  look  to  the  west. 

An’  I’ll  cross  the  river  Jordan  to  the  land. 

*5  The  song  of  which  this  is  a  fragment  is  known  in  Virginia  and  Indiana, 
s  With  this  account  of  the  first  murder,  cf.  the  song  (rather  of  the  broadside  type) 
•which  I  heard  a  travelling  singer  give  at  a  party  in  East  Tennessee  some  fifteen  years  ago . 

“I  am  a  highly  educated  man; 

To  keep  my  brains  within  my  head  I  plan; 

I’ve  been  on  earth  so  long,  that  I  sung  this  little  song 
When  Abraham  and  Isaac  rushed  the  can. 

I  saw  Cain  when  he  killed  Abel  in  the  glade. 

And  I  know  the  game  was  poker  that  they  played; 

But  there  is  where’s  the  rub,  did  he  kill  him  with  a  club? 

Oh,  no!  he  only  hit  him  with  a  spade.” 

I  believe  this  has  already  found  its  way  to  the  college  song-book. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


i6i 


An’  I’ll  sit  me  down  in  my  old  armchair, 

An’  of  burdens  yonder  I’ll  never  tire; 

An’  I’ll  hear  old  Satan  sneeze,  but  I’ll  take  my  ease; 

An’  I’ll  warm  myself  by  the  holy  fire. 

An’  I’ll  shout,  an’  I’ll  dance. 

An’  I’ll  rise  up  early  in  the  morn; 

Oh,  my  friends,  my  friends!  I’ll  be  there  on  time, 

When  old  Gabriel  am  a-blowing  of  his  horn. 

41.  god’s  heaven^ 

(From  Kentucky;  negroes;  MS.  written  for  Miss  Heft;  1912) 

David  play  on  your  harp,  hallelu’,  hallelu’l 

I  got  a  crown,  you  got  a  crown,  all  God’s  chillun  got  a  crown; 

When  I  get  to  Heaven,  I’m  goin’  a-put  on  my  crown,  and  shout  all  over 
God’s  Heaven. 

I  got  shoes,  you,  etc. 

When  I  get  to  Heaven,  I’m  goin’  a-put  on  my  shoes,  and  walk  all  over 
God’s  Heaven. 

Everybody  talking  ’bout  Heaven  —  ain’t  going  there! 

Heaven!  we’ll  shout  all  over  God’s  Heaven. 

42.  TALK  ABOUT  ME 

(From  Kentucky;  negroes;  MS.  written  for  Miss  Heft;  1912) 

Talk  about  me,  talk  about  you. 

Talk  about  everybody; 

Thank  God  Almighty,  if  the  Bible’s  true, 

Ain’t  no  talkers  in  Heaven. 

Lie  on  me,  lie  on  you. 

Lie  on  everybody; 

The  angels  in  Heaven  done  wrote  it  down. 

There  ain’t  no  liars  in  Heaven. 

43.  you’re  goin-a-miss  me 
(From  Kentucky;  negroes;  MS.  written  for  Miss  Heft;  1912) 

I  went  into  the  wilderness. 

And  I  didn’t  go  to  stay; 

My  soul  got  happy. 

And  I  staid  all  day. 

Church,  I  know  you’re  goin-a-miss  me  when  I’m  gone. 

»  As  will  be  seen,  there  is  neither  rhyme  nor  metre  to  this.  Such  is  the  case  with  a 
large  number  of  negro  songs;  they  are  made  up  of  just  a  string  of  emotional  language 
sung  to  some  simple  melody.  Sometimes  a  rhyme  creeps  in,  and  now  and  then  a  line  is 
smoothed  down  to  metrical  form.  If  the  song  is  good  enough  to  survive,  it  is  improved 
sometimes  by  successive  singers,  until  it  reaches  something  like  poetic  form.  But  this 
and  other  songs  in  this  manuscript  will  serve  to  show  how  rude  are  the  begiuninft. 

VOL.  XXVI. - NO.  100. - II 


i62 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


I  went  by  the  graveyard, 

To  take  a  little  walk; 

Me  and  King  Jesus 
Had  a  little  talk. 

Friend,  I  know  you’re  goin-a-miss  me  when  I’m  gone. 


Chorus 

You’re  goin-a-miss  me  by  my  walk. 

You’re  goin-a-miss  me  by  my  talk. 

Yes,  I  know  you’re  goin-a-miss  me  when  I’m  gone. 

44.  coin’  home 

(From  Kentucky;  negroes;  MS.  written  for  Miss  Heft;  1912) 

Get  ready,  chillun,  less  go  home  {thrice) 

On  the  mornin’  train. 


When  the  doctor  gives  me  out. 

I’m  goin’  home  on  the  mornin’  train. 

Back  the  hearse  to  my  door,  etc. 

I’m  sick,  and  I  can’t  get  well,  etc. 

When  you  see  me  enter  my  grave,  etc. 


45.  WE  WILL  WAIT  ON  DE  LAWD 
(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1912) 


-V- 


i 


—  j - — - 

• 

- Ij— 

"(fh — T — M 

<— 1 — 

1 — r~f — 

1—1 - ^ 

-H — h — 5 — ^ 

[;>—  -  v*  •  • 

•  'r. — —  j 

One  day  ez  I  wuz  walkin’^ 

Along  dat  lonesome  road. 

My  hahuht  wuz  filled  wid  rapture, 
An’  I  hyeuhd  de  voice  uv  Gawd. 


We  will  wait  on  de  Lawd,  we’ll  wait,  we’ll  wait; 
We’ll  wait  on  de  Lawd. 


46.  NO  hidin’-place 

(From  Kentucky;  negroes;  recitation  of  Miss  A.  Howard;  1912) 

Dahuh’s  no  hidin’-place  daown  dah-uh! 

Uh  went  tuh  de  rock  tuh  hide  muh  face, 

De  rock  said,  “Back,  no  hidin’-place!” 

Dah-uh’s  no  hidin’-place  daown  dah-uh  1 

*  A  song  beginning  in  the  saune  way  is  reported  in  the  Journal  of  American  Foik^Lore, 
vol.  X,  p.  1 16. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


163 


De  sinnuh  m^n  gamble,  en’  he  fell;  {thrice) 

He  wanted  tuh  go  tuh  Heb’n,  but  he  went  tuh  hell. 

De  sinnuh  maen  stood  at  de  gates  u’  hell;  {thrice) 

De  gates  flew  op’n,  en’  in  he  fell.  ^ 


V.  SONGS  CONNECTED  WITH  THE  RAILROAD 


I.  drivin’  steel 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites; 

0 - ^ _ W  — 

2 

from 

memory; 

1905) 

[^-4 — — N- 

— 1 

>-4— J — #— 

- 0 - J— 

- Pn — fs 

— 1 - 

— j - 

—i- — 

—.^1 - ( - 

^ - ^  -N 

— 1— - f  i - 

tJ 

Y  * 

1-1 - 

- 12J 

-0-  -0- 

<-0 - 

1 - U — J 

^  —A  N 

1  ^  % 

1_ I'j 

1  ^ 

/TJ  •  t\ 

-|l 

•  • 

1  hr!  \ ,  P 

n  11 

•  . 

^ J  ^ 

-i- 

^  t  'sT  L 

zJzzzH 

Drivin’  steel,  drivin’  steel, 

Drivin’  steel,  boys,  is  hard  work,  I  know; 
Drivin’  steel,  drivin’  steel, 

Drivin’  steel,  boys,  is  hard  work,  I  know. 

Treat  me  right,  treat  me  right. 

Treat  me  right,  boys.  I’m  boun’  to  stay  all  day; 
Treat  me  wrong,  treat  me  wrong. 

Treat  me  wrong,  boys.  I’m  boun’  to  run  away. 

Boss  man,  boss  man. 

See  the  boss  man  cornin’  down  the  line; 

Boss  man,  boss  man. 

See  the  boss  man  cornin’  down  the  line. 


2.  JOHN  HENRY* 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 


- T  • 

w 

— 

— \ - 

r- - ^ 

-  V- 

If  I  could  drive  steel  like  John  Henry, 
I’d  go  home.  Baby,  I’d  go  home. 


This  ole  hammer  killed  John  Henry, 

Drivin’  steel.  Baby,  drivin’  steel. 

1  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiii,  p.  436,  for  a  version  of  this  song. 

*  This  song  is  used  by  the  workmen  as  they  drive  the  drill  into  the  rock.  The  rhythm 
marks  the  time  of  the  hammer-strokes.  The  man  who  “shakes”  must  know  when  to 
turn  the  drill,  and,  if  there  are  two  striking,  they  must  both  necessarily  keep  good  time. 

’  Among  the  workmen  on  the  railroads  in  the  South  there  has  been  formed  a  con¬ 
siderable  body  of  verse  about  John  Henry,  a  famous  steel-driving  man.  For  one  stanza 
reported  from  North  Carolina,  see  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxii,  p.  249*  The 
simple  form  lends  itself  easily  to  communal  composition. 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


If  I  had  forty-one  ^  dollars, 

I’d  go  home,  Baby,  I’d  go  home. 

I’m  goin’  home,  en’  tell  little  Annie 
Uv  my  triuls.  Baby,  uv  my  triuls. 

B 

(From  Indiana;  ?;  MS.  of  Mr.  Davidson) 

Did  you  hear  that  rain-crow  hollering? 

Sign  of  rain.  Baby,  sign  of  rain. 

If  I  had  forty-one  dollars. 

I’d  go  home.  Baby,  I’d  go  home. 

C 

(From  Mississippi;  ?;  MS.  of  R.  J.  Slay;  1909) 

This  old  hammer  killed  John  Henry, 

Can’t  kill  me;  can’t  kill  me! 

This  old  hammer  killed  Bill  Dooley, 

Can’t  kill  me;  can’t  kill  me! 

This  old  hammer  weighs  forty  pounds,  sah! 

Can’t  kill  me;  can’t  kill  me! 

D 

(From  Mississippi;  ?;  MS.  of  W.  P.  Cassedy;  1909) 

John  Henry  got  in  his  buggy. 

And  tightened  up  his  reins. 

And  passed  by  those  ladies. 

Like  a  shower  of  rain. 

John  Henry  used  to  sing:  “  I  owe  you  some  money, 

I  haven’t  got  no  small  change. 

But  I’ll  bet  you  five  dollars 
I  will  see  you  again.” 

E 

(From  Kentucky;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1912) 

When  John  Henry  was  a  little  boy. 

Sitting  on  his  papa’s  knee. 

Was  a-lookin  down  at  a  piece  of  steel, 

“For  a  steel-driving  man  I  want  to  be.” 

When  they  take  John  Henry  down  to  the  tunnel. 

Well,  they  set  him  head  for  to  drive; 

For  the  rocks  so  tall,  John  Henry  was  so  small. 

Threw  down  his  hammer,  and  he  cried. 

Well,  they  set  John  Henry  on  the  right-hand  corner, 

A  steam-driller  was  on  the  left; 

“Before  I  let  the  steam-driller  hammer  me  down. 

I’ll  hammer  my  fool  self  to  death. 

A  favorite  number  with  the  folk;  cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxii,  p.  243. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


165 


"If  I  die  a  railroad  man/ 

Go  bury  me  under  the  rail  ties, 

With  my  pick  and  my  shovel  at  my  head  and  feet, 

And  my  nine-pound  hammer  in  my  hand.” 

John  Henry  he  come  walkin’  out; 

He  looked  all  around  and  above. 

Wrapped  up  his  hammer  and  paper  and  silk. 

And  sent  it  to  the  woman  whom  he  loved. 

John  Henry  had  a  lovin’  little  wife. 

Sometimes  she  was  dressed  in  red; 

She  went  walkin’  down  the  track,  and  she  never  looked  back; 

She  said,  "I’m  goin’  where  my  honey  fell  dead.” 

John  Henry  had  a  lovin’  little  wife. 

Sometimes  she  was  dressed  in  blue; 

Went  to  the  graveyard  where  his  dead  body  lies; 

"John  Henry,  I’ve  always  been  true  to  you.” 

When  John  Henry  was  a  little  boy, 

Sittin’  on  his  grandpa’s  knee: 

"That  big  tunnel  on  the  C  and  O  line 
Is  going  to  be  the  death  of  me.”^ 

3.  WHEN  i’m  dead 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  recitation  of  F.  J.eTellier;  1907) 

When  I’m  dead,  dead  en’  gone. 

You  ken  hyer  the  train  I’m  on. 

You  ken  hyer  the  whistle  blow  a  thousand  miles. 

If  I  die  a  railroad  man, 

Jes’  bury  me  in  the  san’. 

Where  I  ken  hyer  ole  Six  Hundred  roll  in  the  mornin’.* 

4.  CASEY  JONES  ^ 

A 

(From  Mississippi;  ?;  MS.  of  M.  T.  Aldrich;  1909) 

Casey  Jones  was  a  brave  engineer; 

Casey  looked  at  the  fireman,  and  the  fireman  said, 

1  This  stanza  is  evidently  out  of  shape;  it  looks,  too,  as  if  it  had  been  brought  in  from 
some  other  song.  Cf.  the  song  following  this. 

2  A  note  on  the  manuscript  says,  “About  half  of  the  ‘John  Henry’  here;  very  long.’’ 
Mr.  C.  B.  House  tells  me  there  is  a  song  in  Clay  County,  Kentucky,  about  John  Henry, 
a  steel-driving  man. 

3  For  a  similar  sentiment,  cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxii,  p.  244. 

^  During  the  winter  of  1908-09,  I  found  the  State  of  Mississippi  full  of  versions  of  a 
song,  very  popular  then,  called  “Casey  Jones.’’  The  several  versions  I  was  able  to  get, 
I  print  here.  Mr.  Barry  says  this  song  was  composed  by  one  man,  William  Saunders; 
but  as  yet  I  have  been  able  to  learn  no  date  for  its  composition.  Certainly  the  version 
which  I  give  as  “E”  was  current  in  East  Tennessee  as  early  as  1905;  and  the  disaster  is 
therein  located  at  or  near  Corbin,  Ky.  Furthermore,  in  1908  the  song  was  already  in  the 
possession  of  the  people  of  Mississippi,  and  each  singer  was  shaping  the  verses  to  suit 
himself. 


i66 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


“What  do  you  care? 

If  I  keep  your  boilers  red  and  hot, 

We’ll  make  it  to  Canton  by  four  o’clock.” 

Casey  Jones  was  a  brave  engineer, 

He  died  with  the  throttle  in  his  right  hand. 

All  the  way  by  the  last  board  he  passed. 

Thirty-five  minutes  late  with  the  S  mail.^ 

Casey  Jones  said  to  his  fireman, 

“We’ll  make  it  to  Canton,  or  leave  the  rail; 

We  are  thirty-five  minutes  late  with  the  S  mail.” 

Just  as  he  got  in  a  mile  of  the  place. 

He  spied  number  Thirty-five  right  in  his  face. 

Said  to  the  fireman,  “You’d  better  jump! 

For  these  locomotives  are  bound  to  bump.” 

When  Casey’s  family  heard  of  his  death, 

Casey’s  daughter  fell  on  her  knees, 

“Mamma!  mamma!  how  can  it  be, 

Papa  got  killed  on  the  old  I.  C.?” 

“Hush  your  mouth,  don’t  draw  a  breath; 

We’ll  draw  a  pension  from  Casey’s  death!” 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  J.  L.  Byrd;  ipop) 

Casey  Jones  left  Jackson  Yards; 

When  he  left,  he  was  sober; 

But  when  he  came  over  Bolivar  Hill, 

Six  Hundred  and  Eighteen  turned  over. 

The  fireman  said  to  Casey  Jones, 

“What  in  the  world’s  the  matter?” 

“Six  Hundred  and  Eighteen’s  done  hopped  the  track, 

And  forty-one  cars  scattered.” 

“You  go  down  the  new  cut  road,^ 

And  I’ll  go  down  the  Central; 

We’ll  both  meet  in  Bethlehem, 

And  both  go  home  together.” 

C 

(From  Mississippi;  ?;  MS.  of  Ben  Bell;  1909) 

Casey  Jones  was  an  engineer; 

He  told  his  fireman  not  to  fear. 

“I  just  want  you  to  keep  the  boiler  hot. 

And  I’ll  run  her  into  Canton  at  four  o’clock.” 

*  The  United  States  mail? 

*  This  stanza  has  a  definite  folk-flavor.  It  also  reminds  one  of  a  stanza  in  "Loch 
Lomond.’’ 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


167 


And  I’ll  run  her  into  Canton  at  four  o’clock;  {twice) 

I  just  want  you  to  keep  the  boiler  hot; 

And  I’ll  run  her  into  Canton  at  four  o’clock. 

I  got  up  this  morning,  and  it  looked  like  rain; 

Around  the  curve  come  the  passenger  train; 

On  that  train  was  Casey  Jones; 

A  good  engineer,  but  he’s  dead  and  gone. 

A  good  engineer,  etc. 

D 

(From  Mississippi;  ?;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909) 

David  Jones  was  a  good  engineer; 

He  told  his  fireman  not  to  fear; 

All  he  wanted  was  steam  and  coal. 

“Stick  your  head  out  the  window,  see  the  drivers  roll, 

See  the  drivers  roll! 

Stick  your  head  out  the  window,  and  see  the  drivers  roll.” 

Early  one  morning,  when  it  looked  like  rain. 

Around  the  curve  come  the  gravel  train; 

On  that  train  was  David  Jones: 

He’s  a  good  old  rounder,  but  he’s  dead  and  gone. 

But  he’s  dead  and  gone. 

He’s  a  good  old  rounder,  but  he’s  dead  and  gone. 

E 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  recitation  of  F.  LeTellier;  1905) 

Las’  Monday  mornin’  ’twas  drizzlin’  rain; 

Aroun’  the  curve  come  a  passenger  train; 

Engineer  Farmer  said  tell  his  wife 
That  Two  Sixty-nine  had  stole  his  life. 

Said,  “  Poke  in  the  coal,  en’  get  the  boiler  hot, 

En’  run  into  Corbin  by  four  o’clock.” 

F 

(From  Mississippi;  ?;  MS.  of  W.  P.  Cassedy;  1909) 

Casey  Jones  was  long  and  tall; 

He  pulled  the  throttle  on  the  cannon-ball; 

Pull[ed]  the  whistle,  and  gave  a  squall; 

Said,  “I’m  going  to  ride  the  scoundrel  to  Niagra  Fall.” 

G 

(From  Mississippi;  ?;  MS.  of  J.  E.  Rankin;  1909) 

Old  Tom  Jones  was  a  good  engineer. 

Said  to  his  fireman,  “Don’t  have  no  fear; 

A  little  more  water,  and  then  some  coal,  ^ 

Stick  your  head  out  the  window,  and  watch  the  drivers  roll.” 


i68 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


5,  ENGINE  NUMBER  NINE 
(From  Mississippi;  ?;  MS.  of  Mr.  Upshur;  1909) 

Engine,  engine,  Number  Nine, 

Travellin’  on  the  Chicago  line, 

When  she’s  polished,  don’t  she  shine! 

Engine,  engine.  Number  Nine! 

6.  YOU  CAUSE  ME  TO  WEEP 
(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 
Yer  cause  me  ter  weep,  en’  yer  cause  me  ter  mourn, 
En’  yer  cause  me  ter  leave  my  home;^ 

En’  I’ll  never  see  my  baby  any  more  {twice). 

I  looked  at  the  sun,  en’  the  sun  looked  high; 

I  looked  at  the  boss,  en’  the  boss  looked  shy. 


7.  GO  DOWN,  pick! 


(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  singing  of  F.  LeTellier,  1912) 


i 


'W - w  2 


-N-t 


3 


I 


5 


I 


I  looked  at  the  shovel,  en’  the  shovel  looked  clean; 
I  looked  at  the  boss,  en’  the  boss  looked  mean; 

I  looked  at  the  sun,  en’  the  sun  looked  high: 

Go  daown,  pick;  go  daown,  er  die! 


8.  ONE  FER  THE  MONEY  ^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905) 

One  fer  the  money,  two  fer  the  show. 

Three  ter  make  ready,  en’  four  ter  go! 


9.  OLD  JAY  GOULD 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  recitation  of  F.  LeTellier;  1907) 

Ole  Jay  Goul’®  said,  before  he  died. 

He’d  fix  a  way  fer  hobos  to  ride. 

Said,  “Ride  on  the  bumpers,  en’  ride  on  the  rods,* 

En’  trust  your  life  in  the  ban’s  uv  God!’’ 

1  For  this  refrain,  cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxii,  p.  245;  vol.  xxiv,  p.  387. 

*  Used  by  workmen  in  handling  a  heavy  timber. 

*  Jay  Gould  was  supposed  to  own  most  of  the  railroads.  Cf.  Journal  of  American 
Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiv,  p.  384,  where  “Jay-gooze”  seems  to  be  for  “Jay  Gould.” 

*  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiv,  p.  279. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


169 


B 

(From  Mississippi;  ?;  MS.  of  M.  T.  Aldrich;  1909) 

Jay  Gould  said,  [before  he  died] 

“Fix  my  train  so  the  bums  can’t  ride.” 

C 

(From  Mississippi;  ?;  MS.  of  L.  A.  Harrison;  1909) 

Old  man  Vanderbilt  said,  before  he  died, 

“Just  one  more  road  I  wanted  to  ride; 

The  Central  Georgia  burns  nothing  but  coal: 

Poke  your  head  out  the  window,  and  watch  the  drivers  roll.” 

10.  MONAKERS  ON  A  WATER-TANK  ^ 

(From  Mississippi;  white  mechanics;  MS.  of  Mr.  Upshur;  1909) 

I  was  riding  on  an  east-bound  freight, 

Goin’  to  Chicago. 

Said  the  head-end  shack 
As  went  came  to  Fargo, 

“If  you’re  no  rank  gay-cat  or  cronicker. 

Just  utilize  your  pleasure  moments. 

Scratching  up  your  monaker. 

I  strolled  up  to  the  water-tank. 

Marked  all  up  with  chalk. 

With  names  of  bo’s  from  every  State 
From  ’Frisco  to  New  York. 

There  was  Boston  Slim,  New  Orleans  Jim, 

Shorty  Bob,  and  ’Frisco  Red, 

Billie  Do,  and  Sailor  Jack, 

Louie  Tom,  and  Buffalo  Ned. 

These  were  some  of  the  monakers 
Upon  that  water-tank. 

I  walked  right  up  to  register; 

The  express  train  pulled  in; 

The  passengers  surrounded  me 
As  though  I’d  done  some  sin. 

One  says,  “Old  bo’,  you’d  better  hustle. 

Or  you’ll  be  left  behind.” 

I  wrote  up  my  monaker. 

And  climbed  upon  the  blind. 

1  Taken  from  the  singing  of  workmen  in  the  railroad  shops  in  Water  Valley,  Miss. 
“Monaker”  is  a  hobo  word  for  “signature,”  such  as  the  tramp  often  puts  up  in  public 

places. 


170 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


II.  WITH  A  CHICKEN  ON  MY  BACK 

A 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1909) 


^li  N  N  fK  ~ 

h-3  H - VK- 

1  ■  r  j.  r  r 

1  fw  -H_ 1  ■■  ■  1^^ 

- — 

J  *  J  1  K  fV 

-• - W  W  0  0  0 

- = - = - « - , - -M  -1 

k - 

4 

^  0^  0 

— ; - 

Md 

■  1 

r~ 

,  .  H  1 

—3 

- S'  r  J  -  S'  — p - fv— - 

- 3 -  -1 

-fr 

ic-9 - n -  ■  J  .  J  0  S 

ht - • - ■ - _ c _ _ _ c _ 

: 1 

Cj 

'  - -  ...  w 

With  a  chicken  on  my  back. 

I’m  goin’  to  my  shack, 

En’  it’s  nobody’s  business  but  mine. 

Lord!  Lord! 

En’  it’s  nobody’s  business  but  mine.^ 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  M.  F.  Rubel;  1909) 

With  them  bloodhounds  on  my  track, 

And  a  chicken  on  my  back, 

Fse  gwine  to  make  it  to  my  shanty,  if  I  can. 

If  I  can,  can,  can. 

If  I  can,  can,  can, 

Fse  gwine  to  make  it  to  my  shanty,  if  I  can. 

With  a  ham-bone  on  my  back. 

And  them  bloodhounds  on  my  back  [Qy.  track?] 

Fse  gwine  to  keep  my  skillet  greasy,  if  I  can. 

C 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  A.  B.  Pitts) 

Chickens  on  my  back,  and  bloodhounds  on  my  track. 
I’ve  got  to  make  it  to  my  shanty,  if  I  can. 

Rabbit  on  the  log,  got  no  rabbit  dog. 

Shoot  him  with  my  pistol  forty-four. 

12.  FO’  HUNDUD  MILES  FUM  HOME 
(From  South  Carolina;  negroes;  MS.  of  H.  M.  Bryan;  1909) 

The  rain  it  rained,  the  wind  it  blew. 

The  hail  it  hailed,  and  the  snow  it  snew; 

And  I  wuz  fo’  hundud  miles  away  fum  home. 

The  tracks  wuz  filled  with  snow. 

When  I  heard  the  station  blow; 

And  I  wuz,  etc. 

1  Cf.  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiv,  p.  357. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


171 


We  just  crossed  Deadman’s  Track 
When  No.  14  hit  our  back; 

And  I  wuz,  etc. 

13.  DE  DUMMY 

A 

(From  Alabama;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  O.  Scroggs;  1908) 

Away  down  yonder  on  Sixteenth  Street, 

De  niggers  dey  have  sech  great  big  feet! 

Dey  go  to  bed,  but  tain’t  no  use; 

Fer  dey  feet  stick  out  fer  de  chickens  to  roos’. 

Two  lir  niggers,  one  Saturday  night. 

Tried  to  go  to  Hebben  on  de  tail  ob  a  kite; 

De  tail  it  broke,  and  de  niggers  dey  fell; 

Dey  tried  to  go  to  Hebben,  but  they  went  to  [hell].^ 

Dey  oughter  been  arrested,  (thrice) 

’Tain’t  no  lie! 

Got  on  de  dummy,  didn’t  have  no  fare; 

Conductor  axed  me  what  I  doin’  dere; 

Hit  me  on  de  head  wid  a  two  by  fo’; 

Ain’t  gwine  ride  on  de  dummy  no  mo’. 

On  de  dummy,  on  de  dummy, 

Gwine  ter  ride  and  shine; 

Gwine  ter  ride  and  shine,  and  pay  my  fine. 

When  I  ride  on  de  dummy  line. 

Some  folks  say  de  dummy  don’t  run; 

But  jes’  lemme  tell  what  de  dummy  done,  done: 

Lef’  Atlanta  at  half-pas’  seven, 

And  got  to  Savannah  at  half-pas’  ’leben. 

B 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  P.  Bean;  1909) 

Some  folks  say  de  dummy  don’t  run; 

But  lemme  tell  you  what  de  dummy  done,  done: 

Left  Atlanta  at  half-past  one, 

And  went  round  de  world  by  de  settin’  of  de  sun. 

14.  I  WANT  A  LITTLE  WATER 
(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Miss  Reedy;  1909) 

Working  on  the  railroad,  sleeping  on  the  ground. 

Waiting  for  that  lazy  boy  to  pass  the  jug  around. 

I  want  a  little  more  water,  Johnny! 

A  little  more  water,  boy ! 

A  little  more  water,  Johnny! 

Every  little  once  and  a  while. 

»  The  verses  in  this  stanza  sound  like  an  importation  from  ‘‘Shorten’  Bread.” 


172 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore 


I  went  down  in  town,  I  didn’t  go  to  stay; 

I  fell  in  love  with  a  black-eyed  girl,  and  couldn’t  come  away 

I  want  a  little  water,  etc. 

15.  CAPTAIN,  CAPTAIN 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  J.  L.  Byrd;  1909) 

Captain,  captain!  my  feet  are  cold! 

“Doggone  your  feet!  let  them  wheelers^  roll.’’ 

Hang  the  harness  on  the  rack; 

Work  no  more  till  the  captain  comes  back. 

Going  down  the  river  with  my  good  clothes  on 
Going  down  the  river  where  they  do  pay  more. 

Wake  up  in  the  morning.  I’ll  be.  gone; 

On  my  way  to  the  crawfish  pond. 

I  killed  Bill  Johnson,  I  killed  him  dead; 

Killed  him  'bout  dat  crawfish  head. 

16.  I  WENT  DOWN  TO  THE  DEPOT 
(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Leverett;  1909) 

I  went  down  to  the  depot. 

And  a  little  bit  down  the  track, 

Waiting  for  dat  cannon-ball* 

To  bring  my  Baby  back. 

17.  KEEP  YOUR  EYE  ON  THE  CAPTAIN 
(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  P.  Bean;  1909) 

Keep  your  eye  on  the  captain,  {thrice) 

And  rat*  as  much  as  you  please. 


18.  HORSE  AND  BUGGY  ^ 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  from  the  singing  of  a  grading  crew;  1909) 


U 

- - ^ - 

i 

/f 

- 

H 

-4  .  V  2 

•  M 

- II 

rrrr  a  -it - n  3  -  - 

- ^ - IJ 

htfcB-  4= - r - i  .  •  - - 

- ^ - U 

» - • 

Uh’m  gon  tell  yuh 
’Bout  my  pardner. 

Haws  en’  buggy 
Take  a  ride! 

^  The  wheelbarrows  with  which  the  negroes  are  moving  dirt.  Cf.  Journal  of  American 
Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiv,  p.  381. 

*  A  humorous  name  for  the  slow  trains  of  the  South. 

*  That  is,  “waste  time,”  “idle.”  ’ 

^  This  represents  the  simplest  form  of  negro  work-song.  The  simple  refrain  —  "take 
a  ride”  —  echoes  the  height  of  the  negro’s  ambition.  The  verses  have  no  rhyme  except  as 
accidental.  The  negro  sings  all  day,  to  the  monotonous  melody,  just  what  comes  into 
his  mind;  any  negro  in  the  gang  being  free  to  add  his  own  stanza  to  the  song.  For  a 
similar  song,  possibly  another  version  of  this,  see  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  xxiv». 

p.  384. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South 


173 


Las’  July 

He  fell  sprawlin’. 

Las’  July 
He  died. 

Pick  en’  shovel. 

Git  yuh  daown! 

Jamaica  ginger, 
Burn  yuh  out! 


19.  ON  THE  RAILROAD 
(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  the  singing  of  F.  LeTellier;  1910) 

4 - - - \ - 


fee 


* 

i-*=r-£ 

Ft-^%  , 

l:Si=t=ts=: 

V - 

-  ^ 

1 

There’s  many  a  man  been  killed  upon  the  railroad, 
Railroad,  railroad; 

There’s  many  a  man  been  killed  upon  the  railroad, 
En’  cast  in  his  lonely  grave. 


20.  THE  STATE  OF  ARKANSAW^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  the  singing  of  F.  LeTellier;  1910) 

My  name  is  John  the  Bummer,  with  a  budget  on  my  back. 
Trampin’  daown  the  railroad,  trampin’  daown  the  track; 

Trampin’  daown  the  railroad,  a  village  there  I  saw. 

Trampin’  daown  the  railroad,  in  the  State  uv  Arkinsaw. 

I  went  daown  to  the  station;  the  agent  there  I  saw. 

Selling  railroad  tickets  to  ride  in  Arkinsaw: 

Said,  “Pitch  me  daown  five  dollers,  en’  a  ticket  you  shell  draw 
To  ride  upon  the  railroad  in  the  State  uv  Arkinsaw.’’ 

I  bought  me  a  pint  uv  licker  my  troubles  to  withdraw. 

While  ridin’  on  the  railroad  in  the  State  uv  Arkinsaw; 

I  follerd  my  conducter  to  a  most  inquainted  place. 

Where  hard  luck  en’  starvation  wuz  pictured  in  the  face. 

I  got  off  at  the  station;  a  porter  there  I  saw. 

Who  took  me  to  a  hotel,  the  best  in  Arkinsaw! 

They  fed  me  on  corn  dodgers,  en’  beef  I  could  not  chaw, 

En’  charged  me  half  a  doller  in  the  State  uv  Arkinsaw! 

University  of  Louisville, 

Louisville,  Ky. 

1  This  song  is  rather  the  work  of  the  minstrel  than  of  the  folk.  Cf.  J.  A.  Lomax, 
'' Cowboy  Songs,”  for  an  extended  version.  The  State  of  Arkansas  is  the  butt  for  many 
satirical  songs. 


•I- 


V*-* 


[Reprinted  from  the  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  Vol.  XXVIII.,  No.  CVIII., 

April-June,  1915.] 


SONGS  AND  RHYMES  FROM  THE  SOUTH. 

BY  E.  C.  PERROW. 

VI.  SONGS  CONNECTED  WITH  DRINKING  AND  GAMBLING.^ 
I.  THE  drunkard’s  SONG. 


A. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905.) 


m 

p - - S - 

-- N— ! — 

r - 

-N— K — C- 

^  b  ■  b-^ 

— - — - 

— ^ — 1 — ■±- 

-P - ^ ^ - - 

-a - 1 - 1 — 

— 0 — < 

0  1-  1^  Banjo. 

1st. 

M.  1 

• 

• 

— 1 — n 

0  * 

j  n 

C. 

J  f 

•  N-  rs 

.  K  1  S  V. 

^  1  R  N 

t^—0- 

...V 

z  • 

— 1— * — 0-0  .1 

L-P-j — 0—0—i 

• 

-U^ 

1 1 

Way  up  on  Clinch  Mountain, 
I  wander  alone; 

I’m  es  drunk  es  the  devil; 

Oh,  let  me  alone! 


Tink-a-link-tink,  tink-a-link-tink, 
Tink-a-link-tink-a-link  1 
Tink-a-link-tink,  tink-a-link-tink, 
Tink-a-link-tink-a-link  1 


I’ll  play  cards  and  drink  whiskey 
Wherever  I’m  gone; 

En  if  people  don’  like  me. 

They  ken  let  me  alone. 

I’ll  eat  when  I’m  hungry 
En  drink  when  I’m  dry; 

En  ef  whiskey  don’t  kill  me. 

I’ll  live  till  I  die.^ 

O  Lulu,  O  Lulu,  O  Lulu,  my  dear! 
O  Lulu,  my  dear! 

I’d  give  this  whole  world 
Ef  my  Lulu  wuz  hyeur. 

Way  up  on  Clinch  Mountain 
Where  the  wild  geese  fly  high. 

I’ll  think  uv  little  Aliie 
En  lay  down  en  die. 

1  Continued  from  vol.  xxvi  of  this  Journal  (1913),  p.  I73- 

2  Compare  Berea  Quarterly,  October,  1910,  p.  26. 


130 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


Jack  u’  diamonds,  Jack  u’  diamonds, 
I  know  you  uv  ole; 

You  rob  my  pore  pockets 
Uv  silver  en  gol’. 

You  may  boast  uv  yore  knowledge 
En  brag  uv  yore  sense; 

But  ’twill  all  be  furgotten 
One  hundred  years  hence. 


B. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 

Oh  brandy  and  whiskey  I  wish  you  no  harm. 

But  I  wish  I  had  a  jug  full  as  long  as  my  arm. 

2.  WHEN  I  DIE. 


A. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  recitation  of  F.  Le  Tellier;  1907.) 

When  I  die,^  don’  bury  me  a  tall. 

But  soak  my  body  in  alcohol. 

When  I  die,  bury  me  deep, 

En  put  a  quart  u’  licker  at  my  head  en  feet. 

When  I  die,  don’  bury  me  a  tall. 

But  take  me  down  to  Bowery  Hall; 

Take  off  my  coat  en  open  my  vest, 

En  tell  all  the  girls  I’m  gone  to  rest. 


B. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Harrison;  1909.) 

When  I  die  don’t  bury  me  at  all; 

Preserve  my  bones  in  alcohol; 

Fold  my  arms  across  my  breast. 

Natural  born  .  .  .  gone  to  rest. 

Natural  born  .  .  .  don’t  have  to  work; 

Carry  a  recommendation  on  the  tail  of  my  shirt. 


c. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  G.  Pitts;  1909.) 

When  I  die,  bury  me  deep; 

Tell  all  the  gamblers  that  I’ve  gone  to  sleep. 

Put  a  pair  of  bones  in  my  right  hand. 

And  I’ll  throw  seven  in  the  promised  land. 

1  Illustrative  of  the  popular  tendency  to  make  a  “last  will  and  testament.’’  See 
Transactions  of  the  Wisconsin  Academy,  December,  1913. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


131 


3.  sleepin’  in  my  cabin. ^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905.) 

I  wus  drunk  las’  night,  my  darlin’; 

I  was  drunk  the  night  before; 

But  if  3mu’ll  fergive  me,  darlin’, 

I’ll  never  get  drunk  any  more. 

Sleepin’  in  my  cabin 

In  the  merry  month  of  June, 

\\  rapped  in  the  arms  of  my  own  true  love 
When  the  wind  blows  chilly  en  cool. 

4.  i’ll  NEVER  GET  DRUNK  ANY  MORE. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  negroes;  from  memory;  1905.) 

My  father  give  me  a  fortune, 

I  locked  it  in  my  trunk; 

I  spent  it  one  night  in  gamblin’, 

The  night  that  I  got  drunk. 

Oh,  I’ll  never  get  drunk  any  more; 

I’ll  lay  m.y  head  in  the  bar-room  door. 

But  I’ll  never  get  drunk  any  more. 

5.  ONE  MORE  DRINK. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  recitation  of  Mr.  George;  1908.) 

There  wus  an  ole  hen  with  a  wooden  foot; 

She  made  her  nest  by  a  mulberry-root; 

She  ruffled  her  feathers  an’  kept  her  warm; 

One  more  drink  won’t  do  no  harm. 

6.  IS  THAT  YOU,  SAMBO? 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  1909.) 

“  Is  that  you,  Sambo?  ”  “  No,  it’s  Jim.” 

“You’re  pretty  good-looking,  but  you  can’t  come  in!” 

7.  OLD  DAN  TUCKER.2 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1912.) 

Ole  Dan  Tucker,  in  the  time  uv  the  war, 

VVuz  the  biggest  fool  I  ever  saw. 

He  had  no  pants,  he  had  no  coat, 

En  he  rammed  his  shirt-tail  daown  his  throat. 

1  Composed  by  a  workman  on  the  K.  &  B.  Railroad. 

2  I  believe  the  stanzas  quoted  here  from  this  well-known  song  are  of  popular  origin. 
This  song  figures  as  a  dance-song  in  Kentucky: 

Ole  Dan  Tucker  come  to  town, 

Swing  the  ladies  all  around! 

Swing  to  the  east  and  swing  to  the  west, 

And  swing  to  the  one  that  you  love  best. 


Get  out  the  way,  etc. 


132 


JouTUCil  of  Afyicficafi  Folk-Love. 

Ole  Dan  Tucker  wuz  a  nice  ole  man, 

He  washed  his  face  in  a  fryin.-pan, 

He  combed  his  head  with  a  wagon-wheel, 
En  died  with  a  gum-bile  on  his  heel. 


8.  WHERE  HAVE  YOU  BEEN  GONE? 


A. 


(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  recitation  of  F.  Le  Tellier,  1907.) 

-4- 


Where  have  you  been  gone  so  long,  so  long? 

Where  have  you  been  gone  so  long? 

“Well,  I’ve  been  in  the  bed  with  my  head  kivered  up, 
En  I’m  goin  back  there  ’fore  long. 


B. 

(From  Western  Virginia;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  D.  H.  Bishop;  1909-) 

Where  have  you  been  so  long?  ' 

Oh,  where  have  you  been  so  long? 

I’ve  been  in  the  bend  with'  the  rough  and  ready  men, 

I’ve  been  in  the  bend  so  long. 


9.  WHY  don’t  you  come  HOME? 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  recitation  of  F.  Le  Tellier;  1905.) 

I  went  daown  to  the  depot  to  get  my  baby’s  trunk; 

I  stuck  my  head  in  the  bar-room  door,  en  I  Ifef  that  city  drunk. 
My  darling  baby,  why  don’t  yer  come  home? 

I  went  daown  on  the  Bowery^  with  a  forty-four  in  my  han’; 

I  said,  “Look  out,  you  roustabout!  I’m  looking  fer  my  man.” 
My  darlin’  baby,  why  don’t  yer  come  home? 

I  come  back  up  the  Bowery  with  a  slug  u’  meat  in  my  han’; 

I  flung  it  thoo  a  winder  en  I  hit  a  country  man. 

My  darlin’  baby,  why  don’t  yer  come  home? 


10.  YOU  MAY  RARE. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  recitation  of  Edgar  Perrow;  1912.) 

Oh,  you  may  rare  en  you  may  pitch 
But  Black  Mariah’s^  got  yer  in  the  ditch. 

1  Showing  an  origin  in  the  city.  Even  the  most  unpretentious  town  has  its  “  Bowery,  ’ 
its  “New  York  Store,”  etc. 

2  The  patrol  wagon. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


133 


II.  I  WAS  A  TEXAS  RANGER. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  the  singing  of  F.  Le  Tellier;  1910.) 

I  wuz  a  Texas  ranger  sixteen  long  years  ago; 

I  ranged  through  all  of  Texas  en  a  part  uv  Mexico. 

Ef  I  wuz  a  gambler,  westward  I  would  go; 

Td  gamble  with  the  Englishmen  en  there  I’d  win  my  dough. 

My  children  they’ll  go  naked;  my  wife  will  have  to  plough; 
Along  come  an  officer  en  drove  off  my  last  old  caow. 

12.  THERE  WAS  AN  OLD  MAN. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Cassedy;  1909.) 

There  was  an  old  man  from  over  the  Rhine, 

Snappoo!  Snappoo! 

There  was  an  old  man  from  over  the  Rhine, 

Who  came  for  some  beer  and  who  came  for  some  wine. 
Snap-peter,  snap-pider,  fi-nan-ago-neda-snappoo! 

“  Dear  old  lady,  have  you  some  wine 
Fit  for  a  soldier  from  over  the  Rhine?” 

“No,  dear  soldier;  I  have  no  wine 
Fit  for  a  soldier  from  over  the  Rhine.” 

13.  TAKE  ONE  ON  ME. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 

Oh,  de  men  for  de  women. 

An  de  women  for  de  men; 

Oh,  de  doctor  say  it’ll  kill  you, 

But  he  didn’t  say  when. 

Oh,  ho!  my  honey!  take  one  on  me! 

14.  OLE  CORN  LICKER. 

(From  Virginia;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1909-) 

I  got  drunk  en  got  a  fall, 

En  ole  co’n  licker  wus  the  cause  uv  it  all. 

15.  DIAMOND  JOE. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Turner;  1909.) 

If  I  come  out  on  two. 

Then  I’ll  hand  em  back  to  you. 

Chorus. 

Diamond  Joe,  Diamond  Joe, 

Run  get  me  Diamond  Joe. 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


If  I  come  out  on  three, 

Then  you’ll  hand  em  back  to  me. 

If  I  come  out  on  fo’, 

Then  I’ll  beat  you  a  dolla  mo’. 

If  I  come  out  on  six, 

Then  you  knows  yo  money’s  fixed. 

If  I  come  out  on  seben. 

Then  I’ll  roll  you  fer  eleben. 

If  I  come  out  on  nine, 

Then  yo  money  will  be  mine. 

Then  I’ll  buy  me  a  bar’l  o’  flour, 

Cook  and  eat  it  every  hour. 

Yes;  an  buy  me  a  middlin’  o’  meat, 

Cook  and  eat  it  twict  a  week. 

1 6.  CAMP  TOWN  LADIES. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 
Camp  town  ladies,  sing  this  song: 

Do  da,  do  da. 

Camp  town  ladies  sing  this  song: 

Do  da,  do  da  dey. 

I’m  boun’  to  run  all  night; 

I’m  boun’  to  run  all  day; 

I’ll  bet  my  money  on  the  bob-tailed  nag,^ 

Ef  somebody’ll  bet  on  the  bay. 

17.  O  LORD,  honey! 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1909.) 

O  Lord,  honey!  I  can’t  see 
How  my  money  gets  away  frum  me. 

18.  OH,  wasn’t  I  lucky! 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 
Ole  Marster,  an’  ole  Mistis,  I’m  er  reskin  my  life, 

Tryin’  to  win  er  this  great  fortune,  for  you  an’  your  wife. 

Oh,  wasn’t  I  lucky  not  to  lose!  {thrice) 

Ole  Skew-ball  was  a  gray  hoss,  ole  Molly  was  brown; 

Ole  Skew-ball  out-run  Molly  on  the  very  fust  go-round. 

My  bosses  is  hongry,  an’  they  will  not  eat  hay; 

So  I’ll  drive  on  a  piece  further,  an  I’ll  feed  on  the  way.^ 
Compare  Harvard  College  Library,  25254.10.5. 

Compare  “Old  Smoky”  in  this  collection. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


135 


19.  OLD  ALEXANDER. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  singing  of  F.  Le  Tellier;  1912.) 


God  damn  old  Alexander!  I  wish  he  wuz  in  hell! 

He  made  me  wear  the  ball  en  chain  en  caused  my  ankles  ter  swell. ^ 


VII.  SONGS  OF  THE  PLANTATION. 

I.  OH,  MOURNER [2 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909.) 

Some  folks  say  that  a  nigro  {sic)  won’t  steal; 

I  caught  two  in  my  corn  feild  {sic). 

One  had  a  shovel  and  the  other  had  a  hoe; 

If  that  ain’t  stealing,  I  don’t  know. 

Oh,  Moana,  you  shall  be  free,  {twice) 

When  the  good  Lord  sets  you  free. 

Some  folks  say  that  a  nigro  won’t  rouse; 

I  caught  two  in  my  smoke  house. 

One  had  a  middling,  and  the  other  had  a  ham; 

If  that  ain’t  stealing.  I’ll  don’t  know. 

I  went  to  a  chicken  coop  on  my  knees; 

I  thought  I  heard  a  chicken  sneeze.^ 

Way  down  yonder  on  Punkin  Creek 
Where  those  nigros  grow  leben  feet. 

Heels  stick  out  so  far  behind 
Chickens  roost  there  most  all  the  time. 

I  had  a  wife  and  I  fed  her  on  grease; 

Every  time  I  knocked  her  down  she  hollowed  “police!” 

Ain’t  no  use  in  me  workin’  so  hard; 

I  got  a  gal  in  the  white  folks  yard. 

She  fetch  me  meat  and  she  fetch  me  lard. 

Ain’t  a  bit  of  use  in  me  workin’  so  hard."* 

*  This  is  the  only  stanza  my  cousin  could  remember  of  a  song  in  which  a  member  of 
the  chain  gang  curses  the  Judge,  or  state’s  attorney,  who  was  responsible  for  the  sentence. 

*  This  song  shows  the  tendency  of  a  large  number  of  distinct  songs  to  drift  together  into 
one. 

3  This  stanza  is  in  the  college  song  “  Polly-Wolly-Doodle.” 

*  Compare  another  version  from  Mississippi: 

I  got  a  gal  in  de  white  folk’s  ya’d, 

She  brings  m^  chicgn  en  she  brings  me  la’d 

She  steals  me  ham  an’  she  steals  me  meat 

She  thinks  I’m  wukkin’,  but  I’m  walkin’  de  street. 

VOL.  XXVIII. — NO.  108. — 10. 


136 


Joutnal  of  Aweficofi  Folk-Love. 

Yonder  come  Melinda.  How  do  I  know? 

Know  her  by  her  walk;  I  seen  her  walk  before. 

Kill  the  chicken;  save  me  the  wing;^ 

Think  I’m  workin’;  ain’t  doing  a  thing. 

Kill  the  turkey;  save  me  the  bones; 

Drink  the  beer;  save  me  the  foam. 

Kill  the  chickens;  save  me  the  breast; 

Think  I’m  workin’,  but  I’m  taking  my  rest. 

I  like  my  coffee,  I  likes  it  strong; 

When  I  git  to  eatin’,  bring  the  corn-dodger  along. 

I  likes  my  lasses  good  and  strong; 

When  I  git  to  eatin’,  bring  the  butter  along. 

I  likes  my  wife,  I  likes  my  baby; 

I  likes  my  flap-jacks  floating  in  gravy. 

Gimme  chicken;  gimme  pie; 

Gimme  some  of  everything  the  white  folks  buy. 

Some  folks  say  that  a  nigro  won’t  steal; 

I  caught  two  in  my  water-melon  feild. 

Preaching  and  praying  all  the  time. 

And  pulling  the  melons  off  the  vine. 

I  wouldn’t  marry  a  yaller  gal; 

I’ll  tell  you  the  reason  why: 

She’s  all  the  time  sitting  in  another  man’s  lap 
And  telling  her  husband  lies. 

I  wouldn’t  marry  a  black  gal ; 

I’ll  tell  you  the  reason  why: 

Her  nose  is  always  snotty. 

And  her  lips  is  never  dry. 

Nigro  was  a  sitting  on  the  log; 

One  eye  on  the  trigger,  the  other  on  the  hog. 

The  gun  said,  “Boom!”  the  hog  fell  bip! 

The  nigro  jumped  on  him  with  all  his  grip. 

[Spoken]  Gitting  the  chiddlings! 

I  will  dive  in  that  pige  pen  a-fighting; 

I  ought  [to]  been  that  hog-jaw  bighting. 

With  a  hog  head  in  my  hand. 

Yonder  come  my  uncle;  axe  heavy  with  lead, 

Throwed  across  my  shoulder  to  kill  that  barrow  dead. 

Spare  ribs  is  rottening;  back-bones  ain’t  but  a  few; 

Run  and  git  the  carvin’  knife,  and  we’ll  have  a  barber  cewe. 


137 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 

I  wouldn’t  marry  a  widow, 

For  all  the  money  in  the  land; 

It  takes  six  men  to  feed  her, 

Workin’  with  both  hands. 

When  you  come  home  from  work  at  night, 

It’s  “Hello!  my  pretty  old  gal!” 

And  then  she  whispers  softly, 

“There  ain’t  no  meal  in  the  barrel.” 

I  went  down  to  Malinda’s  house; 

Malinda  she  was  gone; 

I  sat  down  in  Malinda’s  chair 
And  rocked  till  she  come  home. 

She  sat  me  in  the  parlor; 

She  cooled  me  with  her  fan; 

She  whispered  in  her  mother’s  ear, 

“I’m  fooling  with  a  gambling  man.” 

2.  DIS  MORNIN’. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 

See  dem  ole  farmers  goin’  on  to  town,  this  mornin’,  {twice) 

See  dem  ole  farmers  goin’  on  to  town 
Wid  er  one  horse  waggin  an’  er  it  broke  down, 

Dis  mornin’,  er  dis  evenin’,  so  soon.^ 

See  dem  ole  farmers  come  along  back,  dis  mornin’,  {twice) 

See  dem  ole  farmers  come  along  back 
Wid  er  piece  o’  meat  in  er  crocus  sack. 

Dis  mornin’,  etc. 

Mommer  kilt  er  chicken,  an’  she  give  me  de  wing,  dis  mornin’,  {twice) 
Mommer  kilt  er  chicken,  an’  she  give  me  de  wing; 

She  thought  I  was  a  workin’,  and  I  warn’t  doin’  a  thing, 

Dis  mornin’,  etc. 

Mommer  kilt  er  chicken,  an’  she  give  me  de  head,  dis  mornin’,  {twice) 
Mommer  kilt  er  chicken,  and  she  give  me  de  head; 

She  thought  I  was  workin’,  an’  I’s  lyin’  in  the  bed, 

Dis  mornin’,  etc. 


3.  I’m  er  livin’  easy. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 
I’m  er  livin’  easy;  I’m  er  livin’  high; 

Goin’  to  keep  my  pork  chops  greasy. 

I’m  er  livin’  easy,  oh  baby;  I’m  er  livin’  high. 

Got  er  bar’l  o’  flou’er;  cook  an  eat  it  every  hou’er; 
I’m  er  livin’  easy,  oh  baby;  I’m  er  livin’  high. 

1  For  the  refrain  compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xxiv,  p.  353. 


38 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


4,  JOHN  BOOKER. 


(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Turner;  1909.) 

My  ole  mistis  promised  me, 

‘Fo’  she  died  she’d  sot  me  free.^ 


Chorus. 


Walk,  John!  walk,  John!  Oh,  walk! 

John  Booker,  with  yo  new  boots  on! 

Ole  mistis  lived  ’till  her  head  got  bald; 

She  got  outen  de  noshun  o  dyin  a  tall. 

My  ole  mistis  lyin’  in  de  leaves, 

Head  full  of  lice,  and  her  stockin’  full  of  fleas. 

But  now  ole  mistis  is  dead  an  gone. 

And  she’s  lef’  John  Booker  a-hoeing  out  corn. 

5.  RUN,  NIGGER,  RUNI^ 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1909-) 

Es  I  was  runnin’  through  de  fiel’, 

A  black  snake  caught  me  by  de  heel. 

Run,  nigger,  run,  de  paterrol  ketch  yuh! 
Run,  nigger,  run!  It’s  almos’  day! 

Run,  nigger,  run!  I  run  my  bes’ 

Run  my  head  in  a  hornet’s  nes’. 

Run,  nigger,  run!  etc. 


6.  COME  ON,  MR.  tree! 


'(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Harrison;  1909-) 

When  I  was  young  and  in  my  prime. 

Sunk  my  axe  deep  most  every  time; 

But  now  I’m  old,  and  my  heart’s  growin’  cold. 

And  I  can’t  swing  a  lick  to  save  my  soul. 

Come  on,  Mr.  Tree;  yer  are  almost  down; 

Come  on,  Mr.  Tree;  wants  to  see  yer  hit  de  groun’. 


7.  DEM  TATERS. 


(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Harrison;  1909.) 

A  die,  a  die,  a  die  O! 

Pa  don’t  raise  no  cotton  in  his  corn. 

And  a  very  few  permatoes; 

A  die,  a  die,  a  die,  O! 

Pa  don’t  raise  no  cotton  in  his  corn, 

But  urn!  um!  dem  taters! 


1  Compare  Harris,  Uncle  Remus  and  his  Friends,  p.  200;  also  Harvard  College  Lib 


2  Compare  Harris,' Uncle  Remus  and  his  Friends,  p.  200. 
Bread”  (No.  22). 


2S254-IO-S- 


For  music  see  “Shorti 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


139 


8.  HOW  OLD  ARE  YOU?  ^ 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  recitation  of  Mrs.  Brown;  1909.) 

[First  part]  How.  old  are  you? 

[Second  part]  Twenty-one  or  twenty-two! 

9.  coin’  down  to  TOWN.2 
(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1909.) 

Coin’  down  tuh  town, 

Coin’  down  tuh  town, 

Goin’  down  tuh  Lynchburg  town  tuh  take  my  baccer  down; 

Buy  me  a  load  uh  pos’. 

Fence  my  grave  aroun’. 

Keep  Bob  Ridley’s  ole  gray  sow  fum  rootin’  me  out  de  groun’. 

Baccer  sellin’  high,^ 

Baccer  sellin’  high, 

Baccer  sellin’  at  fifteen  cents. 

Nobody  there  to  buy. 

Baccer  sellin’  low, 

Baccer  sellin’  low, 

Baccer  won’t  bring  seven  cents. 

Damn  if  I  think  Fll  go. 

10.  MO’  RAIN. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Hudson;  1909.) 

Mo’  rain,  mo’  rest;  mo’  rain,  mo’  grass; 

Makes  the  marster’s  colt  grow  fast. 

II.  SHUCK  CORN. 

(From  Eastern  North  Carolina;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Scroggs;  1908.) 
Shuck  corn,  shell  corn. 

Carry  corn  to  mill. 

Grind  de  meal,  gimme  de  husk; 

Bake  de  bread,  gimme  de  crus’; 

Fry  de  meat,  gimme  de  skin; 

And  dat’s  de  way  to  bring  ’em  in. 

Won’t  you  git  up,  ole  horse? 

Fm  on  de  road  to  Brighton. 

Won’t  you  git  up,  ole  horse? 

I’m  on  de  road  to  Brighton. 

12.  COLD  FROSTY  MORNING.^ 

(From  West  Tennessee;  negroes;  recitation  of  Mr.  Brown;  1909-) 

Col’  frosty  mo’nin’. 

Nigger  mighty  good. 

Sung  antiphonally  by  groups  of  negro  farm-hands. 

Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xxii,  p.  249. 

Last  two  stanzas  from  Kentucky.  ^  Current  also  in  Kentucky. 


140 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


Axe  on  his  shoulder, 

Choppin’  up  de  wood. 

Little  piece  u’  ash-cake, 

An’  a  little  piece  u’  fat; 

White  folks  grumble, 

Ef  yuh  eat  all  u’  dat. 

13.  WHITE  MAN  GOES  TO.  COLLEGE.^ 

A. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  recitation  of  Mrs.  Brown;  1909.) 

White  man  goes  tuh  college. 

Nigger  goes  tuh  fiel’, 

White  man  learn  tuh  read  an’  write, 

Nigger  learn  tuh  steal. 

Times  is  gitdn’  mighty  ha’d. 

Money  gittin’  mighty  scace; 

Soon’s  I  sell  my  cot’n  ’n  co’n, 

I’se  gwine  tuh  leave  dis  place. 

White  man  go  tuh  meetin’, 

Can’t  get  up  a  smile; 

Nigger  go  tuh  meetin’. 

Boys,  yuh  hyeuh  him  shout  a  mile. 

B. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Harrison;  1909.) 

White  folks  go  to  college; 

Nigger  go  to  field; 

White  folks  learn  to  read  and  write. 

And  de  niggers  learn  to  steal. 

O  Lord,  it’s  hard  to  be  a  nigger!  {twice) 

’Cause  a  nigger  don’t  have  no  show! 

14.  AUGHT  FOR  AUGHT. 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1909.) 

Aught^  fer  aught,  an  figger  fuh  figger; 

All  fuh  de  white  man,  an  none  fuh  de  nigger! 

15.  BOATMAN,  boatman! 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1905.) 

Boatman,  boatman,  blow  yuh  ho’n. 

An’  den  I’ll  steal  yuh  a  bag  a  co’n; 

An’  when  de  white  folks  all  asleep. 

Den  I’ll  steal  yuh  a  bag  u’  wheat. 

'  See  Hobson,  In  Old  Alabama,  pp.  171,  177. 

^  The  initial  n  of  this  word  has  quite  disappeared  in  the  speech  of  both  negroes  and 
whites  in  the  Southern  States. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South, 


141 


16.  OLD  JUDGE  WATSON. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Aldrich;  1909.) 

Old  Judge  Watson  a  mighty  fine  man, 

An’  you  all  know  him  well, 

If  he  ketch  you  in  his  watermelon  patch. 

He’ll  give  you  particular  Hallelujah. 

17.  ol’  massa  in  de  parlor. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Rankin;  1909.) 

or  Massa  in  de  parlor; 

or  Missus  in  de  hall; 

Nigger  in  de  dinin’  room. 

Farin’  de  best  of  all.^ 

18.  DAT  NEGRO  COME  TO  MY  HOUSE. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Rankin;  1909.) 

Dat  negro  come  to  my  house; 

He  thought  I  wuz  treatin’  ’em  well; 

But  I  took  dat  negro  roun’  de  house. 

And  I  gived  dat  negro  hell. 

19.  SOMETIMES  I  LIB  IN  DE  COUNTRY. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  negroes;  from  memory;  1909.) 

Sometimes  I  lib  in  de  country, 

En  sometimes  I  lib  in  town; 

En  sometimes  I  hab  uh  notion 
Tuh  jump  in  de  ribber  en  drown. 

20.  BIG  BAYOU. 

(From  Lower  Mississippi  River;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Scroggs;  1908.) 
Oh,  Big  Bayou  wuz  a  good  ole  town 
Forty  years  ago; 

But  now  she’s  done  a-fallin’  down,* 
A-oh-o-o-oh! 

21.  DAN-U-WE-HOU. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Harrison;  1909-) 

Ef  you  want  yo  buckwheat  cakes, 

An’  er  want  ’em  good  an’  done; 


1  The  Virginia  rhyme: 

White  folks  eat  de  mutt’n, 

Eat  it  fuh  a  sham, 

Nigger  in  de  kitchen 

Jes’  rarin’  on  de  best  uv  de  ham. 

«  Near  Oxford,  Miss.,  is  a  once  populous  town,  now  entirely  deserted.  Only  the 
ruins  of  houses  and  weed-choked  streets  are  now  left  of  what  was  once  an  important  cotton 
market. 


142 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


Slap  ’em  on  a  nigger  man’s  heel, 

And  turn  him  to  the  sun. 

Chorus. 

Dan-u-we-ou,  Dan-u-we-hou, 

I’m  gwine  back  to  Dan-u-we-hou. 


22.  SHORTENED  BREAD. ^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1912.) 


+f  ^ 

u 

■ ;  ’ 

y 

^ 

rrt 

v-rr  0— n - m  •  w 

m  •  w 

-GT  •  •  -d — 

-J - H — P-H 

hiS 

V 

V  9 

— i - ^ 

Chorus. 


- ^ — r - ^ - : - r— ^  — H 

- s- 

—A — P — 1 — H 

— N — K — p  ^  p 

— ! - p — i — • 

fS  jS  p  y  ..jp- 

.  J — J — |J 

:P±zi=S 

d  m — ^ — ii* — J 

-d  j  m 

Run  hyeur,  mammy,  run  hyeur  quick! 

Shord’n  bread  made  baby  sick! 

My!  don’t  ’e  love  shord’n  shord’n  shord’n 
Don’t  ’e  love  shord’n  shord’n  bread! 

Oh,  give  me  sump’n,  I  don’t  kyeur  what, 

Tuh  cyore  this  awful  pain  I  got! 

My!  don’t  ’e  love,  etc. 

Two  little  niggers  layin’  in  bed; 

One  turned  over,  en  the  tother  one  said, 

“My!  don’t  yer  love,’’  etc. 

Two  little  niggers  layin’  in  bed; 

They  sent  fer  the  doctor,  en  the  doctor  said, 
“Feed  them  niggers  on  shord’n,’’  etc. 

Two  little  niggers  black  ez  tar 

Tried  ter  go  ter  heaven  on  a  ’lectric  car. 

Two  little  niggers  dressed  in  black 
Tried  to  go  to  heaven  on  a  railroad-track. 

Two  little  niggers  dressed  in  white 
Tried  to  go  to  heaven  on  the  tail  of  a  kite. 

Two  little  niggers  black  ez  hell 

Tried  ter  go  ter  heaven  in  a  peanut-shell. 

Two  little  niggers  in  a  peanut-shell 

Tried  to  go  to  heaven,  but  they  went  to  hell. 

23.  ol’  black  bar. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Upshur;  1909.) 
or  black  bar  live  down  on  Quibber;^ 

01’  black  bar  he  love  to  eat  nigger; 

1  Music  an  adaptation  of  that  of  “Run,  Nigger,  Runl” 

*  A  river  in  Mississippi. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


143 


or  black  bar  live  down  on  Quibber; 

He  gwine  to  git  yo  if  yo  go  dar. 

or  wil’  panter  live  down  on  Quibber; 
or  wil’  panter  he  love  to  eat  nigger; 
or  wil’  panter  live  down  on  Quibber; 

He  gwine  to  git  yo  if  yo  go  dar. 

Dem  white  ghostes  live  down  on  Quibber; 

Dem  white  ghostes  dey  love  to  cotch  nigger; 

Dem  white  ghostes  live  down  on  Quibber. 

Dey  gwine  to  git  yo  if  yo  go  dar. 

or  Parson  Wash  went  down  on  Quibber; 
or  Parson  Wash  was  a  good  nigger; 
or  Parson  Wash  went  down  on  Quibber; 
or  Parson  Wash  ain’t  come  back  never; 
Sompin’  done  got  him  when  he  went  dar. 

or  black  bar  whut  down  down  on  Quibber, 
or  wil’  panter  whut  down  on  Quibber, 

Dem  white  ghostes  whut  down  on  Quibber, 

All  dem  tings  done  cotch  dat  nigger; 

Dey  gwine  get  yo  if  yo  go  dar. 

24.  FREEDOM.^ 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1912.) 

Oh,  freedom,  freedom,  freedom! 

Freedom,  freedom  over  me! 

En  befo’  Pd  be  a  slave. 

I’d  be  buried  in  muh  grave, 

En  go  home  tuh  muh  Savior  en  be  free. 

25.  “glendy  burke.” 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  singing  of  Fremont  Le  Tellier;  1912.) 
“Glendy  Burke”  is  a  mighty  fas’  boat 
En  a  mighty  fas’  captain  too; 

He  sets  up  dar  on  de  hurricane  deck 
En  ’e  keeps  his  eye  on  de  crew. 

Ho  fuh  Louisiana! 

I’m  boun’  tuh  leave  dis  taown; 

I’ll  trot  my  duds  on  Glendy  Burke 
When  "Glendy  Burke”  comes  roun’. 

26.  ON  THE  OHIO. 

(From  Kentucky;  negroes;  recitation  of  R.  E.  Monroe;  1913-) 
High,  ho,  the  boatman  row!  {twice) 

Sailin’  daown  the  river  on  the  Ohio. 

Hay!  yaller  gal,  when  yuh  gwine  tuh  go. 

Sailin’  daown  de  ribber  on  de  Ohio? 

1  Sung  to  the  music  of  “Lilly  Dale.” 


144 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


Dance,  de  boatman  dance 

Dance  all  de  night,  till  de  broad  daylight; 

Go  home  wid  de  gal  in  de  mawnin’ ! 

Oh,  what  make  dis  ole  nigger  laugh? 

Fuh  my  boat  I  built  a  raf’; 

Stuck  a  pine-tree  up  fuh  a  sail 
En  steered  right  daown  de  ole  coat-tail. 

Oh,  what  make  dis  ole  nigger  shiver? 

Saw  a  catfish  in  de  river. 

Jump  right  out  dat  boat,  you  bet; 

I  go  daown  taown  wid  muh  close  all  wet. 

De  niggers  dey  all  built  up  big  fires. 

Ef  dat  ain’t  so,  den  I’m  a  liar! 

27.  BUTTERMILK  AN’  CLABBER. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  negroes;  from  memory;  1909.) 

Buttermilk  an’  clabber  tuh  eat  on  a  Sunday, 

Make  a  nigger’s  heart  ache  tuh  go  tuh  wuk  a  Monday. 

VIII.  SONGS  OF  LOVE. 

I.  BARBARA  ALLEN.^ 

A. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Kent;  1909.) 

There  was  a  young  man  who  lived  in  our  town. 

His  given  name  was  William; 

He  was  taken  sick,  and  very  sick. 

And  death  was  in  his  dwelling. 

It  was  the  merry  month  of  May, 

When  the  green  buds  were  swelling, 

Sweet  William  on  his  death  bed  lay 
For  the  love  of  Barbara  Allen. 

He  sent  his  servant  down  in  town; 

He  went  into  her  dwelling: 

“My  master’s  sick,  and  sent  for  you, 

If  your  name  be  Barbara  Allen.’’ 

And  slowly,  slowly  she  did  rise. 

And  slowly  she  went  to  him. 

And  all  she  said  when  she  got  there, 

“Young  man,  I  think  you  are  dying.’’ 

1  Compare  Harvard  College  Library  25254.10.5  and  25254.10.7. 

“  Perhaps  the  most  widely  current  of  all  the  traditional  ballads.  Still  sung  by  school- 
children  in  Kentucky.  The  B  version  shows  a  queer  trick  of  the  popular  mind, — Barbry 
Allen  is  changed  to  a  man! 


145 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 

“Oh,  yes,  I’m  sick.  I’m  very  sick. 

And  death  is  with  me,  darling, 

I’ll  die.  I’ll  die.  I’ll  surely  die. 

If  I  don’t  get  Barbara  Allen.’’ 

“Oh,  yes,  you  are  sick,  and  very  sick. 

And  death  is  in  your  dwelling; 

You’ll  die,  you’ll  die,  you’ll  surely  die. 

For  you  will  never  get  Barbara  Allen. 

“Remember  on  last  Wednesday  night 
When  we  were  at  a  wedding. 

You  passed  your  wine  to  the  girls  all  around 
And  slighted  Barbara  Allen.’’ 

He  turned  his  pale  face  to  the  wall. 

He  turned  his  back  upon  her: 

“Adieu,  adieu  to  the  friends  all  around. 

And  adieu  to  Barbara  Allen!’’ 

She  had  not  got  tin  {sic)  miles  from  town. 

When  she  heard  a  swamp  bird  singing; 

And  every  time  the  swamp  bird  sung 
Was  woe  to  Barbara  Allen. 

She  had  not  got  three  miles  from  town, 

When  she  heard  a  death  bell  ringing. 

And  in  her  ear  it  seemed  to  say, 

“Hard-hearted  Barbara  Allen!’’ 

She  looked  to  the  east,  and  she  looked  to  the  west. 
And  she  saw  his  corpse  a-coming; 

“I  could  have  saved  that  young  man’s  life 
By  giving  him  Barbara  Allen! 

“O  mother,  O  mother,  go  make  my  bed. 

Make  it  of  tears  and  sorrow; 

Sweet  William  died  for  me  to-day, 

And  I  will  die  for  him  to-morrow. 

“O  father,  O  father,  go  dig  my  grave. 

Dig  it  deep  and  narrow; 

Sweet  William  died  of  true  love’s  sake. 

And  I  shall  die  of  sorrow.’’ 

Sweet  William  died  on  Saturday  night. 

And  Barbara  died  on  Sunday; 

Her  mother  died  for  the  love  of  both 
And  was  buried  alone  on  Monday. 

Sweet  William  was  buried  in  the  new  churchyard. 
And  Barbara  beside  him; 

And  out  of  his  grave  sprang  a  lily-white  rose, 

And  out  of  hers  a  briar. 


146 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


They  ran  to  the  churchyard  tower, 

And  could  not  grow  any  higher. 

They  tied  themselves  in  a  true  love  knot, 
And  the  rose  ran  around  the  briar. 


B. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Holliman;  1909.) 

It  was  in  the  month  of  May 
When  all  the  sweet  was  dwelling; 

A  young  girl  on  her  death  bed  lay. 

For  the  love  of  Barbry  Allen, 

She  sent  her  servant  into  town 
Where  Barbry  was  dwelling; 

“Your  truelove  said  for  you  to  go  there. 

If  your  name  be  Barbry  Allen.” 

Slowly,  slowly,  he  got  up. 

So  slowly,  slowly  he  did  go; 

And  when  he  got  there  he  said,  “  Dear  girl. 

I’m  sure  you  must  be  dying.” 

“Oh,  yes,  I’m  sick,  and  very  sick. 

And  all  the  doctors  can’t  cure  me; 

I  am  not  any  better,  nor  never  will  be. 

If  I  can’t  get  Barbry  Allen.” 

“Oh,  yes,  you’re  sick,  and  very  sick. 

And  all  the  doctors  can’t  cure  you; 

You  are  not  any  better,  nor  never  will  be. 

For  you  can’t  get  Barbry  Allen.” 

She  turned  her  pale  face  to  the  wall; 

He  turned  his  back  upon  her; 

And  before  he  got  away  from  town 
He  heard  her  death  bell  ringing. 

And  every  knock  it  seemed  to  say, 

“Cruel,  cruel,  is  your  name. 

And  wicked  is  your  nature. 

For  you  could  have  saved  this  poor  girl’s  life. 

If  you  had  done  your  duty.” 

“Yes;  cruel,  cruel,  is  my  name. 

And  wicked  is  my  nature. 

For  I  could  have  saved  this  poor  girl’s  life 
If  I  had  done  my  duty.” 

His  true  lover  died  on  Saturday  night. 

And  Barbry  died  on  Sunday; 

His  mother  died  for  the  love  of  both: 

They  were  buried  on  Easter  Monday. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


147 


2.  ONCE  I  COURTED  A  FAIR  BEAUTY  BRIGHT^ 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Holliman;  1909.) 

Once  I  corted  a  fair  beauty  bright, 

In  my  sight  she  did  take  great  delight. 

She  granted  me  her  love;  I  returned  her  back  the  same; 

And  that’s  the  reason  why  she  never  could  complain. 

Her  old  father,  he  came  for  to  know 
What  makes  these  people  love  each  other  so. 

He  locked  her  up  in  the  chamber;  he  kept  the  key  shore 
And  I  never  got  to  see  my  truelove  any  more. 

Once  every  day  to  the  chamber  I  did  go 
To  see  if  I  could  get  my  truelove  or  no; 

And  when  she  would  ring  her  hand  and  cry  and  sing, 

“I  love  a  man  that  loves  me;  I  love  him  till  I  die.” 

Then  to  some  foreign  country  I  did  go 
To  see  if  I  could  forget  my  love  or  no; 

And  when  I  got  there,  the  armor  shone  so  bright 
It  give  me  second  thought  of  my  heart’s  delight. 

Six  long  years  I  spent  in  the  war. 

The  seventh  long  year  I  returned  home  again. 

Her  old  mother  she  met  me  and  rung  her  hands  and  cried, 

“Sing,  my  daughter  loved  a  man  that  loved  her;  she  loved  him  till  she  died.” 

Then  I  was  struck  like  a  man  that  was  slain; 

The  tears  from  my  eyes  fell  like  showers  of  rain. 

Come  all  ye  young  people  who  never  felt  the  pain. 

Come  give  me  paper,  ink,  and  pin  (sic)’,  I’ll  write  you  down  the  same. 


3.  CARELESS  LOVE. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  R.  J.  Slay;  1909-) 

I’m  going  to  leave  you  now; 

I’m  going  ten  thousand  miles. 

If  I  go  ten  million  more. 

I’ll  come  back  to  my  sweetheart  again. 


Love,  oh,  love!  ’tis  careless  love  (twice) 

You  have  broken  the  heart  of  many  a  poor  boy, 
But  you  will  never  break  this  heart  of  mine.^ 

I  cried  last  night  when  I  come  home  (twice) 

I  cried  last  night  and  night  before; 

I’ll  cry  to-night;  then  I’ll  cry  no  more. 


Who  will  shoe  your  pretty  feet? 
And  who  will  glove  your  hand? 


1  Evidently  from  a  broadside  (cf.  this  Journal,  vol.  xxvi,  p. 

2  Long  u  before  r,  in  Southern  speech,  is  changed  to  long  o.  So“secyore, 
2  For  the  same  sentiment  cf.  this  Journal,  vol.  xxii,  p.  249. 


endore.” 


148 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


Who  will  kiss  your  red  rosy  cheeks? 

When  I  am  in  that  far-off  land?  ^ 

“Pa  will  shoe  my  pretty  little  feet; 

Ma  will  glove  my  hand; 

You  may  kiss  my  red  rosy  cheeks, 

When  you  come  from  that  far-off  land.” 

4.  LADY  ISABEL  (Child,  4).^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  to  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913.) 
“Go  and  take  of  your  father’s  gold 
And  likewise  of  your  mother’s  fee. 

And  two  steeds  out  of  your  father’s  stable 
Wherein  lays  thirty  and  three.” 

She  went  and  took  of  her  father’s  gold 
And  likewise  of  her  mother’s  fee 
And  two  steeds  out  of  her  father’s  stable 
Wherein  lay  thirty  and  three. 

She  jumped  on  the  bony,  bony  black, 

And  him  ®  on  the  dapple  gray 
And  rid  off  from  her  father’s  bowers 
Two  long  hours  before  it  was  day. 

When  they  got  near  to  their  journey’s  end 
It  was  near  to  the  bank  of  the  sea. 

He  turned  round  to  his  pretty  Colin 

Saying  “I’ve  something  to  say  unto  thee. 

“It’s  six  king’s  daughters  I  have  drownded  here 
And  you  the  seventh  shall  be.” 

“Hush  up,  hush  up!  you  false-hearted  knight. 

Did  you  not  promise  me 
You’d  take  me  to  the  land  of  old  Scotland 
And  there  you  would  marry  me?” 

“  Pull  off,  pull  off  your  Holland  gown 
And  lay  it  upon  the  rocks 
For  it’s  too  fine  and  costilie 
To  rot  in  the  sea  salt  sand. 

“Pull  off,  pull  off  your  Holland  gown 
And  lay  it  upon  the  ground 
For  it’s  too  fine  and  costilie 

For  to  rot  in  the  watery  tomb.” 

^  With  this  stanza  compare  Child,  No.  76.  It  occurs  also  popularly  in  Kentucky. 
Compare  also  this  Journal,  vol.  xxii,  p.  240. 

*  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xix,  p.  232;  vol.  xxii,  p.  65;  vol.  xxiii,  pp.  132,  374. 

*  The  mountain  folk  use  an  accusative  of  the  absolute  instead  of  the  nominative, — 
“him  done  gone”  (he  being  gone). 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


149 


“Turn  yourself  all  round  and  about 
And  your  face  to  the  leaves  of  the  tree, 

For  it’s  not  fit  such  a  villain  as  you 
A  naked  woman  should  see.” 

Then  he  turned  himself  all  round  and  about 
And  his  face  to  the  leaves  of  the  tree; 

Then  she  picked  him  [up]  so  manfullie 
And  she  hoved  him  into  the  sea. 

“Lie  there,  lie  there,  you  false-hearted  knight. 

Lie  there  instead  of  me; 

You  stripped  me  as  naked  as  ever  I  was  born 
And  I’ll  take  nothing  from  thee.” 

Then  she  jumped  on  her  bony,  bony  black 
And  she  led  the  dapple  gray 
When  she  got  back  to  her  father’s  bowers 
Three  long  hours  before  it  was  day. 

Then  up  bespoke  the  pretty  parrot 
From  the  cage  wherein  it  lay 
“What  ails  you,  my  pretty  Colin, 

That  you  travel  so  long  before  day?” 

“Hush  up,  hush  up,  you  pretty  parrot. 

And  tell  no  tales  on  me, 

And  your  cage  shall  be  made  of  the  best  of  beaten  gold 
And  hang  on  a  willow  tree.” 

Then  up  spoke  this  good  old  man 

From  the  chamber  where  he  lies  [lay?] 

“What  ails  you,  my  pretty  parrot. 

That  you  pray  so  long  before  day?” 

“There  was  a  cat  came  to  my  cage  door 
A-threatening  to  worry  me. 

And  I  had  to  call  my  pretty  Colin 
To  drive  that  cat  away.” 

5.  THE  TURKISH  LADY  (Child,  52).^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913-) 

Lord  Bacon  was  a  nobleman. 

As  fair  one  as  you  should  see. 

He  gathered  all  his  silks  and  rubies; 

The  Turkish  land  he’d  go  and  see. 

He  first  blowed  east  and  then  blowed  west 
And  he  blowed  down  to  the  Turkish  land 
The  Turks  they  got  him  and  so  sadly  used  him 
To  love  his  life  he  was  quite  wearied. 

*  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xviii,  p.  209;  vol.  xx,  p.  251;  vol.  xxii,  p.  68;  vol.  xxiii, 
p.  450;  see  also  Harvard  College  Library  25254.12.10. 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


They  bored  a  hole  in  his  left  shoulder 
And  nailed  him  down  unto  a  tree 

They  gave  him  nothing  but  bread  and  water 
And  bread  and  water  but  once  a  day. 

The  Turks  they  had  but  one  fair  daughter, 

As  fair  a  one  as  you  should  see; 

She  stole  the  keys  of  the  prison  strong 

And  vowed  Lord  Bacon  she  would  set  free. 

She  said,  “Have  you  got  any  land  or  living, 

Or  have  you  any  dwelling  free? 

Would  you  give  it  all  to  a  Prince’s  daughter 
If  she  would  set  you  at  liberty?’’ 

Then  he  says,  “I’ve  got  a  land  and  living, 

And  I  have  got  a  dwelling  free; 

And  I’ll  give  it  all  to  you,  pretty  creature, 

If  you  will  do  that  thing  for  me.’’ 

She  went  on  to  her  Master’s  cellar. 

And  from  her  father  stole  a  jail  key. 

She  opened  the  dungeon  both  deep  and  wide, 

And  vowed  Lord  Bacon  she  would  set  free. 

Then  she  took  him  to  her  master’s  cellar 
And  drawed  some  of  the  best  port  wine. 

And,  “Drink  a  health  to  you,  pretty  creature!’’ 

“I  wish.  Lord  Bacon,  that  you  were  mine!’’ 

And  then  they  drawed  each  other’s  notes  of  love, 
And  seven  years  they  were  to  stand ; 

He  vowed  he’d  marry  no  other  woman 
Unless  she  married  some  other  man. 

Then  she  took  him  on  to  the  sea-side 
And  left  him  sailing  over  the  main. 

“Fare  ye  well!  Fare  ye  well!  you  pretty  creature! 
Oh,  when  shall  I  see  you  again!’’ 

When  seven  years  were  past  and  gone 
And  seven  months  and  almost  three. 

She  gathered  all  her  silks  and  rubies 

And  vowed  Lord  Bacon  she’d  go  and  see. 

When  she  got  to  Lord  Bacon’s  hall 
She  knocked  so  far  below  the  ring, 

“Oh,  yes!  oh,  yes!’’  said  the  bold  proud  porter, 
“She  knocks  so  hard,  fain  would  she  come  in.’’ 

“Is  this  Lord  Bacon’s  hall?’’  she  said; 

“Or  is  there  any  man  within?’’ 

“Oh,  yes!  oh,  yes!’’  said  the  bold  proud  porter. 
This  day  has  fetched  him  a  young  bride  in.’’ 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


[Stanza  missing  here.] 

She  says,  “Now  you've  married  some  other  woman 
And  I  have  married  no  other  man; 

I  wish  I  had  my  notes  of  love, 

Straight  back  to  the  Turkish  land  I’d  go.” 

Then  up  spoke  the  young  bride’s  mother. 

An  angry  spoken  old  thing  was  she. 

Saying,  “Would  you  quit  my  own  fair  daughter 
And  take  up  with  a  Turkish  ladye?’’ 

He  said,  You  may  take  your  daughter  home  with  you. 
For  I’m  sure  she’s  none  the  worse  for  me. 

For  the  prettiest  thing  stands  here  awaiting 
That  ever  my  two  eyes  did  see. 

She’s  got  a  ring  on  every  finger. 

And  on  her  middle  one  she’s  got  three. 

And  gold  around  her  neck  a-plenty 
To  buy  all  Cumberland  of  thee.’’ 

He  took  her  by  the  lily-white  hand 
And  took  her  to  his  master’s  cellar 
And  drawed  some  of  the  best  port  wine 
Saying,  “Drink  a  health,  pretty  creature. 

Who  freed  me  from  such  a  prison  strong.” 

He  took  her  by  the  lyly-white  hand 
And  gently  led  her  to  his  hall 
And  changed  her  name  from  Pretty  Nancy 
And  called  her  name,  it  was  noble  Jane. 

6.  GEORGE  COLLINS  (Child,  85). 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  given  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913.) 
George  Collins  rode  home  one  cold  winter  night, 

George  Collins  rode  home  so  fine, 

George  Collins  rode  home  one  cold  winter  night, 

He  taken  ^  sick  and  died. 

A  fair  young  lady  in  her  father’s  house 
A-sewing  her  silk  so  fine 
And  when  she  heard  that  George  was  dead 
She  threw  it  down  and  cried. 

“0  daughter,  don’t  weep!  O  daughter,  don’t  mourn! 

There  are  more  boys  than  one.” 

“0  mother  dear!  he  has  my  heart. 

And  now  he’s  dead  and  gone.” 

“The  happiest  hours  I  ever  spent 
Were  when  I  was  by  his  side; 

^  The  regular  past  tense  of  “take”  in  the  Appalachian  Mountains. 

VOL.  XXVIII. — NO.  108. — II. 


152 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 

The  saddest  news  I  ever  heard 
Was  when  George  Collins  died.” 

She  followed  him  up,  she  followed  him  down; 

She  followed  him  to  his  grave, 

And  there  she  fell  on  her  bended  knees; 

She  wept;  she  mourned;  she  prayed. 

“Unscrew  the  coffin;  lay  back  the  lid; 

Roll  down  the  linen  so  fine; 

And  let  me  kiss  his  cold  pale  lips, 

For  I  know  he  will  never  kiss  mine. 

“Whenever  you  hear  some  lonesome  dove 
Go  flying  from  pine  to  pine 
A-mourning  for  its  own  true-love 
As  I  have  mourned  for  mine.” 

7.  FAIR  ELLENDER  (Child,  73).^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  ipiS-) 
“Come  riddle  to  me  my  own  true  mother, 

Come  riddle  us  all  as  one. 

Whether  I  must  marry  fair  Ellender  or  not. 

Or  bring  the  brown  girl  home”  (twice). 

“The  brown  girl  she  has  house  and  lands; 

Fair  Ellender  she  has  none; 

And  I  advise  you,  my  own  heart’s  blessing. 

Go  bring  the  brown  girl  home.” 


“  Go  saddle  up  my  milk  white  steed. 
Yourself  you  must  dress  in  green.” 
And  every  town  that  she  rode  through 
They  took  her  to  be  a  queen. 


“Go  dig  my  grave  both  wide  and  deep. 

And  paint  my  coffin  black. 

And  bury  fair  Ellender  in  my  arms. 

And  the  brown  girl  at  my  back. 

“Oh,  dig  my  grave,  dear  mother,”  he  said; 

“  Dig  it  both  wide  and  deep; 

And  bury  fair  Ellender  in  my  arms, 

And  the  brown  girl  at  my  feet.” 

8.  EARL  BRAND  (Child,  7). 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  ipiS-) 

“Rise  up,  you  seven  bretherens. 

And  bring  your  sister  down; 

1  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xix,  p.  235;  vol.  xx,  p.  254;  vol.  xxiv,  p.  332. 


155 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 

It  shall  never  be  said  that  a  steward’s  son 
Had  taken  her  out  of  town.” 

”  I  thank  you  kindly,  sir,”  he  says; 

”  I  am  no  steward’s  son. 

My  father  is  of  a  regis  king. 

My  mother’s  a  quaker’s  queen,” 

He  mound  her  on  a  milk-white  steed. 

He  rode  the  dapple  gray. 

He  swung  a  bugle  horn  all  round  about  his  neck. 
And  so  went  blowing  away. 

He  had  not  got  three  mile  of  town 
Till  he  looked  back  again. 

And  saw  her  father  and  seven  bretherens 
Come  tripling  over  the  plain, 

“Sit  you  down,  fair  Ellender,”  he  said; 

“And  hold  this  steed  by  the  rein. 

Till  I  play  awhile  with  your  father 
And  your  seven  bretherens.” 

Fair  Ellender  she  sat  still; 

It  wasn’t  long  till  she  saw 
Her  own  dear  seven  bretherens 
All  wallowing  in  their  blood. 

Fair  Ellender  she  sat  still; 

She  never  changed  a  note. 

Till  she  saw  her  own  dear  father’s  head 
Come  tumbling  by  her  foot. 

Saying,  “Love  runs  free  in  every  vein 
But  father  you  have  no  more; 

If  you’re  not  satisfied  with  this, 

I  wish  you  were  in  your  mother’s  chamber 
And  me  ^  in  some  house  or  room.” 

“If  I  was  in  my  mother’s  chamber. 

You’d  be  welcome  there; 

I’ll  wind  you  east.  I’ll  wind  you  west. 

I’ll  wind  along  with  you.” 

He  mound  her  on  a  milk-white  steed. 

He  rode  the  dapple  gray. 

He  swung  a  bugle  all  round  about  his  neck. 

And  so  went  bleeding  away. 

As  he  rode  up  to  his  father’s  gate. 

He  tinkled  at  the  ring. 

Saying,  “O  dear  father,  asleep  or  awake. 

Arise  and  let  me  in.” 


1  Another  accusative  absolute. 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 

“0  sister,  sister!  make  my  bed; 

My  wounds  are  very  sore.” 

Saying,  ‘‘0  dear  mother!  oh,  bind  up  my  head, 

For  me  you’ll  bind  no  more.” 

It  was  about  three  hours  till  day 
The  cocks  began  to  crow; 

From  every  wound  that  he  received 
His  heart  blood  began  to  flow. 

Sweet  William  he  died  like  it  might  be  to-day; 

Fair  Ellender  to-morrow; 

Sweet  William  died  for  the  wounds  he  received; 

Fair  Ellen  died  for  sorrow. 

Fair  Ellender  was  buried  by  the  church  door; 

Sweet  William  was  buried  by  her; 

And  out  of  her  breast  sprung  a  blood  red  rose. 

And  out  of  his  a  briar. 

They  growed,  they  growed  to  the  top  of  the  church, 

Till  they  could  grow  no  higher, 

And  there  they  tied  a  true  lover’s  knot, 

And  the  rose  ran  round  the  briar. 

9.  LADY  MARGET  (Child,  74).^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  IQIS*) 
Sweet  William  arose  one  morning  in  May 
And  dressed  himself  in  blue, 

Pray,  tell  me  all  about  that  long,  long  love 
Betwixt  Lady  Marget  and  you.” 

“It’s  I  know  nothing  of  Lady  Marget, 

And  she  knew  nothing  of  me. 

To-morrow  morning  at  eight  o’clock 
Lady  Marget  my  bride  shall  see.” 

As  she  was  a-standing  in  her  bower  room, 

A-combing  back  her  hair. 

She  saw  sweet  William  and  his  brown  broughten  bride 
As  they  drew  near  to  her. 

Back  she  threw  her  ivory  comb. 

And  back  she  threw  her  hair; 

Then  she  ran  to  her  bed-chamber 
Nevermore  to  appear. 

That  very  same  night  when  they  were  all  in  the  bed. 
When  they  were  all  in  the  bed  asleep. 

Lady  Marget  rose,  stood  all  alone 
At  sweet  William’s  bed  feet. 

1  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xix,  p.  281;  vol.  xxiii,  p.  381. 


155 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 

“And  how  do  you  like  your  bed,  sweet  William, 

And  how  do  you  like  your  sheet? 

Or  how  do  you  like  your  brown  broughten  bride 
That  lies  in  your  arms  asleep?” 

Very  well,  very  well,  I  like  my  bed; 

Very  well  I  like  my  sheet; 

Ten  thousand  times  better  I  like  the  lady  gay 
That  stands  at  my  bed  feet. 

Sweet  William  arose;  stood  all  alone. 

And  tingled  at  the  ring; 

There’s  none  so  ready  but  her  seven  brothers  all 
To  rise  and  let  him  in. 

“Oh,  where  is  Lady  Marget?”  he  says; 

“Oh,  where  is  Lady  Marget?”  he  cries. 

“Lady  Marget  is  the  girl  I  always  did  adore. 

And  she  stole  my  heart  away. 

“  Is  she  in  her  bower  room 
Or  is  she  in  her  hall? 

Or  is  she  in  her  bed-chamber 
Amongst  her  merry  maids  all?” 

“She  is  not  in  her  bower  room, 

Nor  neither  in  her  hall; 

But  she  is  in  her  cold,  cold  coffin. 

Her  pale  face  towards  the  wall. 

And  down  he  pulled  the  milk-white  sheets 
That  were  made  of  satin  so  fine: 

“Ten  thousand  times  you  have  kissed  my  lips, 

And  now,  love.  I’ll  kiss  thine.” 

Three  times  he  kissed  her  snowy  white  breast; 

Three  times  he  kissed  her  cheeks; 

But  when  he  kissed  her  cold  clay  lips. 

His  heart  was  broke  within. 

“What  will  you  have  at  Lady  Marget’s  burying? 

Will  you  have  bread  and  wine? 

To-morrow  morning  at  eight  o’clock 
The  same  will  be  had  at  mine.” 

They  buried  Lady  Marget  at  the  church  door 
And  buried  sweet  William  by  her; 

Out  of  Lady  Marget’s  grave  sprung  a  green,  green  rose. 
Out  of  sweet  William’s  a  briar. 

They  grew  and  grew  to  the  top  of  the  church 
And  they  could  grow  no  higher. 

And  they  tied  a  true  love’s  knot 
And  lived  and  died  together. 


156 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


10.  WILEY  BOLIN.l 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  recitation  of  F.  Le  Tellier;  1907.) 

Wiley  Bolin  had  a  good  ole  mare, 

Hurrah! 

Wiley  Bolin  had  a  good  ole  mare, 

Hurrah! 

Eyes  knocked  out  en  sides  caved  in. 

Hurrah! 

“A  durn  good  mare!”  said  Wiley  Bolin, 

Hurrah! 

He  rode  her  up  to  Miss  Malvern’s  house, 

Hurrah! 

He  rode  her  up  to  Miss  Malvern’s  house. 

Hurrah! 

En  they  bowed  en  scraped,  en  welcomed  him  in. 

Hurrah! 

■“I’ve  come  to  marry!”  said  Wiley  Bolin, 

Hurrah! 

“Which  one  uv  my  daughters  do  you  love  best?” 

Hurrah! 

“Take  your  selection  among  the  rest,” 

Hurrah! 

“I’ll  marry  one  fer  love,  en  I’ll  marry  one  fer  kin;” 

Hurrah! 

■“So  I’ll  marry  ’em  both,”  said  Wiley  Bolin, 

Hurrah! 

After  the  ball  the  floor’s  swept  clean. 

Hurrah! 

After  the  ball  the  floor’s  swept  clean. 

Hurrah! 

The  bed  wus  spread  en  the  kiver  wus  thin. 

Hurrah! 

“I’ll  sleep  in  the  middle,”  said  Wiley  Bolin, 

Hurrah! 

II.  THE  SEA-CAPTAIN  (cf.  Child,  267) 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  given  E.  N.  Caldwell;  ipisO 

There  was  a  sea  captain  lately  come  to  shore. 

His  ragged  apparel  like  one  that  was  poor. 

“  What  news,  what  news,  dear  J ohnny ,  what  news  have  you  brought  to  me?’  ’ 

“  It’s  bad  news,  madam,  I  have  brought  to  thee. 

■“Our  ship  had  a  broken  voyage  and  all  was  lost,”  said  he; 

“And  all  the  rest  of  our  merry  men  got  drownded  at  sea. 

1  Compare  Child,  No.  39;  Eckenstein,  p.  52;  and  Chambers,  p.  33;  see  also  Harvard 
College  Library,  25254.10.5. 

2  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xxv,  p.  7. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


^S7 


“Call  down  your  daughter  Polly,  and  set  her  down  by  me; 

We’ll  drink  and  drown  all  sorrow,  and  married  we  will  be.’’ 

“  My  daughter  Polly’s  busy  and  cannot  come  to  thee. 

And  neither  can  I  trust  you  for  one  bowl  or  three.’’ 

Then  poor  Johnny  smiled  and  hung  down  his  head. 

“Go  light  the  candle  and  show  me  the  bed.’’ 

“  My  green  beds  are  all  full  and  have  been  this  week. 

And  therefore  poor  Johnny  his  lodging  may  seek.’’ 

“Pray,  tell  me  what  I  owe  you,  and  that  I  will  pay; 

Pray,  tell  me  what  I  owe  you,  and  without  delay.’’ 

“  Here’s  fifty  of  the  new  score  and  something  of  the  old.’’ 

Then  poor  Johnny  pulled  out  both  hands  full  of  gold. 

When  the  old  hag  saw  the  money,  then  she  began  to  rue; 

Said,  “Come  back,  dear  Johnny,  I  have  not  done  with  you. 

“If  you  were  in  earnest,  I  was  only  in  a  jest; 

Upon  my  reputation  I  love  you  the  best. 

“For  my  green  beds  are  all  empty  and  have  been  for  a  week. 

For  you  and  my  daughter  Polly  to  take  a  pleasant  sleep.’’ 

“No,  I  won’t  lie  in  your  green  beds,  I’d  rather  lie  in  the  street; 

For  when  I  had  no  money,  out  of  doors  I  was  kicked. 

“Now  I’ve  got  money  plenty.  I’ll  make  the  tavern  roar; 

With  ale  and  beer  and  brandy  I’ll  drink  about  galore.’’ 

12.  SANDY.^ 

(From  Kentucky;  recitation  of  Miss  Mary  Kahn;  1913-) 

The  moon  had  climbed  the  highest  hill  that  rises  o’er  the  source  of  Dee, 
And  from  the  eastern  summit  shed  its  silvery  light  o’er  land  and  sea. 

And  Mary  laid  her  down  to  sleep,  her  thoughts  of  Sandy  far  at  sea. 

When  soft  and  low  a  voice  she  heard,  saying,  “  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  me.’’ 

She  from  her  pillow  gently  raised  her  head  to  ask  who  there  might  be, 
And  saw  young  Sandy  shivering  stand,  with  pallid  cheek  and  hollow  eye. 

“O  Mary,  dear!  cold  is  my  clay,  that  sleeps  beneath  the  raging  sea;’’ 
And  soft  and  low  a  voice  she  heard,  saying,  “  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  me. 

“Three  days  and  nights  we  strove  to  save  our  little  bark  upon  the  sea. 
But  all  our  striving  was  in  vain;  so,  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  me.’’ 

Loud  struck  the  clock,  the  shadow  fled;  no  more  of  Sandy  could  she  see; 
But  soft  and  low  a  voice  she  heard,  saying,  “  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  me.’’ 

I  A  well-preserved  version  of  an  old  Scottish  song.  Contrast  the  flavor  of  this  with 
material  of  non-literary  origin,  —  say,  with  “Franky”  of  this  collection. 


158 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore, 


13.  THERE  WAS  AN  OLD  MAN. 

(From  Kentucky;  MS.  of  Miss  Kahn;  1913.) 

There  was  an  old  man  came  over  the  Dee; 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  but  I  won’t  have  him! 

Came  over  the  Dee,  a-courting  me, 

With  his  old  beard  so  newly  shaven. 

My  mother  she  told  me  to  open  the  door; 

I  opened  the  door  and  he  bowed  to  the  floor. 

My  mother  she  told  me  to  hang  up  his  hat; 

I  hung  up  his  hat  and  he  grinned  like  a  cat. 

My  mother  she  told  me  to  give  him  a  stool; 

I  gave  him  a  stool  and  he  looked  like  a  fool. 

My  mother  she  told  me  to  give  him  some  fish; 
I  gave  him  some  fish  and  he  ate  up  the  dish. 

My  mother  she  told  me  to  give  him  some  pie; 

I  gave  him  some  pie  and  he  cried  “Oh,  my!’’ 

My  mother  she  told  me  to  lead  him  to  church; 
I  led  him  to  church  but  I  left  him  in  the  lurch. 


14.  SOLDIER,  won’t  YOU  MARRY  ME? 

(From  Virginia;  country  whites;  singing  of  Miss  N.  B.  Graham;  1913.) 


A 

1 - - 

- - 

i - s — 

rT\  A 

•  ^ 

^  d  1 - 

2^ 

1 

AUi — a—. 

— 

- *  .  — 

* 


Fine. 


1 


$ 


-fS— A- 


-r— # 


D.C.  Chorus. 


i 


“Soldier,  won’t  you  marry  me  with  your  fife  and  drum?’’ 

“Oh,  no!  my  pretty  little  miss;  I  have  no  coat  to  put  on.’’ 

Then  away  she  ran  to  the  tailor’s  shop  as  fast  as  she  could  run. 
And  bought  the  finest  coat  in  town  for  the  soldier-boy  to  put  on. 

“Now,  soldier,  won’t  you,’’  etc.  {with  each  article  of  clothing) 

“Now,  soldier,  won’t  you  marry  me  with  your  fife  and  drum?’’ 
“Oh,  no!  my  pretty  little  miss!  I  have  a  wife  at  home.’’ 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


159 


15.  OLD  SMOKY. 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  written  for  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913.) 

On  the  top  of  old  Smoky  all  covered  in  snow 
I  lost  my  true  lover  by  sparking  too  slow.* 

Sparking  is  a  pleasure,  parting  is  a  grief, 

And  a  false  hearted  is  worse  than  a  thief. 

A  thief  will  only  rob  you,  will  take  what  you  have. 

And  a  false-hearted  lover  will  take  you  to  the  grave. 

The  grave  will  only  decay  you,  turn  you  to  dust; 

There’s  not  one  boy  in  a  hundred  a  poor  girl  can  trust. 

They  will  tell  you  they  love  you  to  give  your  heart  ease. 

And  as  soon  as  your  back’s  upon  them  they’ll  court  who  they”please. 

'‘It’s  a  raining,  it’s  a  hailing;  that  moon  gives  no  light; 

Your  horses  can’t  travel  this  dark  lonesome  night. 

“Go  put  up  your  horses,  feed  them  some  hay; 

Come  and  set  down  here  by  me,  love,  as  long  as  you  stay.’’ 

“My  horses  are  not  hungry,  they  won’t  eat  your  hay: 

So  farewell,  my  little  darling!  I’ll  feed  on  my  way. 

“I  will  drive  on  to  Georgia,  write  you  my  mind; 

My  mind  is  to  marry,  love,  and  leave  you  behind. 

“Your  parents  is  against  me;  mine  is  the  same; 

If  I’m  down  on  your  book,  love,  please  rub  off  my  name.’’ 

“I  go  upon  old  Smoky  on  the  mountain  so  high. 

Where  the  wild  birds  and  the  turtle-dove  can  hear  my  sadYry.’’ 

“As  sure  as  the  dew  drops  grows  on  the  green  corn. 

Last  night  I  were  with  her,  but  to-night  she  is  gone.’’ 

16.  i’m  going  to  GEORGIA. 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913.) 

Once  I  loved  a  young  man  as  dear  as  my  life. 

And  he  ofttimes  would  promise  to  make  me  his  wife. 

Refrain. 

I’m  going  to  Georgia,  I’m  going  to  roam. 

I’m  going  to  Georgia  to  make  it  my  home. 

His  promises  fulfilled  and  he  made  me  his  wife,* 

So  you  see  what  I  have  come  to  by  believing  his  lies. 

*  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xx,  p.  273. 

5  The  vowel  in  this  word  is  pronounced  like  that  in  “lies,”  so  that  there  is  perfect 


assonance. 


i6o 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore, 


Come,  all  ye  fair  ladies,  take  warning  by  me: 

Never  cast  your  affections  on  a  green  growing  tree; 

For  the  leaves  may  wither  and  the  flowers  may  die; 

Some  young  man  may  fool  you  as  one  has  fooled  I. 

For  they’ll  hug  you  and  kiss  you  and  tell  you  more  lies 
Than  cross-ties  on  the  railroad  or  stars  in  the  skies. 

17.  THE  SILK  merchant’s  DAUGHTER.^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  given  E.  N.  Caldwell;  ipiS-) 

There  was  a  rich  gentleman  in  London  did  right. 

Had  one  lovely  daughter  her  beauty  shined  bright. 

She  loved  a  porter,  and  to  prevent  the  day 
Of  marriage  they  sent  this  poor  young  man  away. 

Oh,  now  he  has  gone  for  to  serve  his  king 
It  grieves  this  lady  to  think  of  the  thing. 

She  dressed  herself  up  in  rich  merchant’s  shape; 

She  wandered  away  her  true-love  for  to  seek. 

As  she  was  travelling  one  day  almost  night 
A  couple  of  Indians  appeared  in  her  sight.^ 

And  as  they  drew  nigh  her,  oh,  this  they  did  say: 

“Now  we’re  resolved  to  take  your  life  away.’’ 

She  had  nothing  by  her  but  a  sword  to  defend; 

These  barbarous  Indians  murder  intend. 

But  in  the  contest  one  of  them  she  did  kill. 

Which  caused  the  other  for  to  leave  the  hill. 

As  she  was  a-sailing  over  the  tide 
She  spied  a  city  down  by  the  seaside. 

She  saw  her  dear  porter  a- walking  the  street; 

She  made  it  her  business  her  true  love  to  meet. 

“How  do,  you  do,  sir?  where  do  you  belong?’’ 

“I’m  a-hunting  a  diamond,  and  I  must  be  gone.’’ 

He  says,  “I’m  no  sailor;  but  if  you  want  a  man. 

For  my  passage  over  I’ll  do  all  I  can.’’ 

Then  straightway  they  both  went  on  board. 

Says  the  captain  to  the  young  man,  “What  did  you  do  with  your  sword?  ’’ 
On  account  of  long  travel  on  him  she  did  gaze. 

“Once  by  my  sword  my  sweet  life  I  did  save.’’ 

Then  straightway  to  London  their  ship  it  did  steer; 

Such  utter  destruction  to  us  did  appear; 

It  was  all  out  on  main  sea  to  our  discontent. 

Our  ship  sprung  a  leak  and  to  the  bottom  she  went. 

1  A  version  of  the  broadside  “Jackass”  (cf.  this  Journal,  vol.  xx,  p.  269). 

*  Does  this  represent  an  American  accretion? 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


i6i 


There  was  four  and  twenty  of  us  all  contained  In  one  boat; 

Our  provision  gave  out  and  our  allowance  grew  short; 

Our  provisions  gave  out,  and,  death  drawing  nigh, 

Says  the  captain,  “Let’s  cast  lots  for  to  see  who  shall  die.’’ 

Then  down  on  a  paper  each  man’s  name  was  wrote; 

Each  man  ran  his  venture,  each  man  had  his  note. 

Amongst  this  whole  ship’s  crew  this  maid’s  was  the  least; 

It  was  her  lot  to  die  for  to  feed  all  the  rest. 

Now,  says  the  captain,  “Let’s  cast  lots  and  see 
Amongst  the  ship’s  crew  who  the  butcher  will  be.’’ 

It’s  the  hardest  of  fortune  you  ever  did  hear: 

This  maid  to  be  killed  by  the  young  man,  her  dear. 

He  called  for  a  basin  for  to  catch  the  blood 
While  this  fair  lady  a-trembling  stood. 

Saying,  “Lord  have  mercy  on  me  how  my  poor  heart  do  bleed 
To  think  I  must  die  hungry  men  for  to  feed.’’ 

Then  he  called  for  a  knife  his  business  to  do; 

She  says,  “  Hold  your  hand  for  a  minute  or  two. 

A  silk  merchant’s  daughter  in  London  I  be. 

Pray,  see  what  I’ve  come  to  by  loving  of  thee.’’ 

Then  she  shewed  a  ring  betwixt  them  was  broke. 

Knowing  the  ring,  with  a  sigh  then  he  spoke: 

“For  the  thoughts  of  your  dying  my  poor  heart  will  burst; 

For  the  hopes  of  your  long  life,  love,  I  will  die  first.’’ 

Says  the  captain,  “If  you  love  her,  you’ll  make  her  amend. 

But  the  fewest  of  number  will  die  for  a  friend. 

So  quicken  the  business  and  let  it  be  done.’’ 

But  while  they  were  speaking,  they  all  heard  a  gun. 

Says  the  captain,  “You  may  now  all  hold  your  hand; 

We  all  hear  a  gun;  we  are  near  ship  or  land.’’ 

In  about  half  an  hour  to  us  did  appear 
A  ship  bound  for  London  which  did  our  hearts  cheer. 

It  carried  us  safe  over  and  us  safe  conveyed; 

And  then  they  got  married  this  young  man  and  maid. 

1 8.  WHEN  I  BECAME  A  ROVER. 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  given  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913-) 

When  I  became  a  rover,  it  grieved  my  heart  most  sore 
To  leave  my  aged  parents  to  never  see  them  more. 

My  parents  did  treat  me  tenderly,  they  had  no  child  but  me, 

But  my  mind  was  bent  on  roving;  with  them  I  couldn  t  agree. 

There  was  a  noble  gentleman  in  yonder  town  drew  nigh, 

He  had  one  only  daughter;  on  her  I  cast  my  eye. 


i62 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


She  was  young  and  tall  and  handsome,  most  beautiful  and  fair; 

There  wasn’t  a  girl  in  that  whole  town  with  her  I  could  compare. 

I  told  her  my  intention,  it  was  to  cross  the  main. 

It’s,  “Love,  will  you  prove  faithful  till  I  return  again?” 

She  said  she  would  prove  faithful  till  death  did  prove  unkind; 

We  kissed,  shook  hands,  and  parted;  I  left  my  girl  behind. 

It’s  when  I  left  old  Ireland  to  Scotland  I  was  bound; 

I’ll  march  from  Zion  to  me  to  view  the  country  round. 

The  girls  were  fair  and  plenty  there,  and  all  to  me  proved  kind; 

But  the  dearest  object  of  my  heart  was  the  girl  I  left  behind. 

I  walked  out  one  evening  all  down  the  George’s  square; 

The  mail-coach  ship  had  just  arose  when  the  post-boy  met  me  there. 

He  handed  me  a  letter  that  gave  me  to  understand 

That  the  girl  I  left  behind  me  had  wedded  to  another  man. 

I  advanced  a  little  further;  I  found  the  news  quite  true; 

I  turned  myself  all  round  and  about;  I  knew  not  what  to  do. 

I’ll  serve  my  trade;  I’ll  give  my  woe;  ^  bad  company  I’ll  resign; 

I’ll  rove  around  from  town  to  town  for  the  girl  I  left  behind. 

19.  WILLIAM  TAYLOR.2 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913.) 

Oh,  William  was  a  youthful  lovyer. 

Full  of  youth  and  wealth  and  heir; 

And  first  his  love  he  could  discover 
Was  on  a  charming  lady  fair. 

Samuel  knowing  nothing  of  Billy’s  doings 
Till  Billy  gained  in  great  success; 

And  Samuel  swore  he’d  be  Billy’s  ruin; 

He’d  deprive  him  of  all  happiness. 

The  day  was  set  for  to  get  married. 

And  dressed  he  was  and  all  ready. 

Instead  of  Billy’s  getting  married, 

Pressed  he  was  and  sent  to  sea. 

Oh,  must  I  live  on  bread  and  water 
Till  his  fair  face  I  see  again? 

She  dressed  herself  in  the  sailor’s  jacket. 

And  then  on  sea  she  did  go. 

Her  little  fingers  both  slim  and  slender 
With  kitchen  fare  must  all  be  stained. 


1  Another  version  of  this  apparent  broadside,  also  furnished  by  Mr.  Caldwell,  reads 
here,  ‘‘I’ll  bear  my  woes.” 

2  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xxii,  p.  380. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


163 


Out  on  sea  there  rose  a  dreadful  screaming, 

And  her^  being  among  the  rest, 

A  silver  button  flew  off  her  jacket. 

And  a  sailor  spied  her  snowy  white  breast. 

It’s,  “O  pretty  miss!  what  is  the  matter? 

Oh,  what  misfortune’s  brought  you  here?” 

“I’m  on  pursuit  of  my  own  true  lovyer 
Sailed  away  the  other  year.” 

“If  you’re  on  pursuit  of  your  own  true  lovyer. 

Pray,  tell  to  me  what  is  his  name.” 

“His  name  it  be  one  William  Taylor, 

Pressed  he  was  from  the  Isle  of  Graham.” 

“If  his  name  be  William  Taylor, 

Very  like  I  know  the  man; 

If  you’ll  rise  up  early  in  the  morning. 

You’ll  see  him  a-walking  down  the  strand.” 

She  arose  early  the  next  morning. 

Just  about  the  break  of  day. 

And  there  she  spied  her  own  love  William  Taylor 
Come  walking  with  his  lady  gay. 

“If  that  be  my  William  Taylor,” 

She  cried,  “alas!  what  shall  I  do?” 

She  wrung  her  lily  white  hands 
And  over  bow  her  body  threw. 

This  lady  died  for  William  Taylor; 

The  watery  main  it  was  her  grave. 

The  whole  ship’s  crew  they  tried  to  save  her. 

But  all  they  strived  it  was  in  vain. 

20.  THE  DAMSEL  DISGUISED.^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913-) 

Come,  all  you  fair  ladies  that’s  linked  in  Cupid’s  chain; 

I’ll  tell  you  of  a  damsel  a-sporting  on  the  plain. 

It  was  her  and  her  dear  Billy  that  used  to  sport  and  play. 

And  the  press-gang  followed  after  and  pressed  her  love  away. 

With  bitter  screams  and  crying  she  ran  and  tore  her  hair. 

She  said,  “I’ll  go  distracted  for  losing  of  my  dear.” 

She  wished  the  wars  might  kill  them  that  pressed  her  love  away. 

And  would  leave  their  bodies  sinking  forever  in  the  sea. 

Then  straightway  she  went  home  and  dressed  like  any  duke  with  a  star 
upon  her  breast. 

She  swore  she’d  kill  the  Captain  if  he  her  miss  list. 

The  offlcers  stood  a-gazing  this  noble  duke  to  see. 

To  think  he  was  a-coming  there  commander  for  to  be. 

1  Accusative  absolute. 

2  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xxiv.  p.  338.  for  a  broadside  something  like  this. 

3  MS.  reads  thus,  evidently  for  “mislest,”  given  as  a  dialectic  form  of  molest. 


164 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


Now,  straightway  she  walked  up,  took  this  young  man  by  the  hand, 
Saying,  “You  are  my  prisoner,  and  you  I’ll  command; 

You  robbed  me  of  my  treasure;  I’ll  try  you  for  your  life.” 

“I  never  robbed  a  man,”  says  he,  “a  man  in  all  my  life.” 

Hand  in  hand  they  walked  on  till  they  came  to  a  shade; 

Then  she  began  to  ask  him  if  he  knew  such^  a  maid. 

His  eyes  they  overflowed  with  tears  a-hearing  of  her  name. 

“Hold  your  tongue,  my  dear!”  she  said,  “for  I’m  the  very  same.” 

Then  into  his  love’s  arms  like  lightning  he  did  fly: 

“Oh,  my  dearest  jewel,  how  could  you  all  this  do? 

How  could  you  venture  your  sweet  life  to  cross  the  raging  sea?” 

“I  ventured  life  for  fortune  this  young  man’s  wife  to  be.” 

21.  THE  PRENTICE  BOY.^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  given  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913.) 

When  I  was  brought  up  in  Ireland  to  a  note  of  high  degree, 

My  parents  they  adored  me;  no  other  child  but  me. 

I  raked  and  rambled  over,  just  as  my  fancies  led; 

At  length  I  came  a  prentice  boy;  my  joys  they  soon  all  fled. 

My  mistress  and  my  master  they  didn’t  use  me  well; 

I  formed  a  resolution  not  long  with  them  to  dwell. 

Unbeknown  to  friends  and  parents,  from  them  I  stole  away; 

I  steered  my  course  to  Dublin,  so  bitter  be  that  day! 

I  hadn’t  been  in  Dublin  more  than  weeks  two  or  three. 

Before  my  worthy  mistress  grew  very  fond  of  me. 

And  “Here’s  my  gold  and  silver,  my  horses  and  free  land; 

If  you’ll  consent  to  marry  me,  it’s  all  at  your  command.” 

It’s,  “Oh,  my  worthy  mistress,  I  cannot  wed  you  now. 

For  I’m  promised  to  pretty  Polly,  besides  a  solemn  vow; 

I’m  promised  to  pretty  Polly  and  bounded  in  an  oath; 

I’m  promised  to  pretty  Polly  and  I  cannot  wed  you  both,” 

I  stepped  out  one  morning  to  take  the  pleasant  air; 

My  mistress  in  the  garden  a- viewing  sweet  flowers  there; 

The  rings  that’s  on  her  fingers  as  she  came  passing  by 
She  dropped  into  my  pocket  and  for  them  I  must  die. 

My  mistress  swore  against  me,  and  she  had  me  brought 
Before  the  cruel  justice  to  answer  for  that  fault. 

My  mistress  swore  I  robbed  her,  which  lodged  me  into  jail. 

That’s  been  the  provocation  of  my  sad  overthrow. 

Come,  all  you  bystanders,  don’t  laugh  nor  frown  on  me. 

For  I  have  plead  not  guilty,  you  all  may  plainly  see. 

Here  s  adieu  to  pretty  Polly!  I  died  a-loving  thee. 

1  That  is,  a  certain  maid. 

2  Evidently  a  broadside  reworking  of  the  Potiphar’s  wife  theme.  See  “The  Sheffield 
Apprentice,  in  Harvard  College  Library  25254.12,10. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


165 


22.  POLLY.^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913.) 

I  am  a  man  of  honour  and  from  Virginia  came; 

I  courted  a  fair  damsel,  and  Polly  was  her  name. 

I  gained  her  affection  so  plainly  did  show, 

And  her  self-conceited  brother,  he  proved  her  overthrow. 

Her  brother  being  absent,  as  we  do  understand, 

“O  sister!  don’t  you  have  him;  he’s  neither  house  nor  land. 

“Sister,  don’t  you  have  him;  here’s  one  handsome  gown; 

Two  more  I  will  give  to  you,  the  best  in  Campbell^  town.’’ 

It  filled  her  heart  with  sorrow;  she  stepped  aside  to  cry, 

“If  I  had  all  the  silks  and  satins  that  ever  crossed  the  sea. 

Freely  would  I  give  it  all  if  my  friends  could  all  agree.’’ 

Then  to  meet  with  lovely  Polly  I  travelled  day  and  night. 

Hoping  when  I  met  with  her  it  was  to  take  delight. 

When  I  met  with  her  it  was  my  sad  surprise 

How  the  tears  were  falling  from  her  most  charming  eyes. 

“What’s  the  matter,  Polly,  what  makes  you  look  so  sad? 

Have  I  give  you  any  reasons  to  cause  you  to  be  mad? 

“If  I  gave  you  any  reason,  love,  it  ne’er  was  my  intent. 

Pray,  tell  to  me,  dear  Polly,  what  makes  you  so  lament. 

“You’ve  altered  your  mind,  love,  as  I  do  understand. 

For  a  three  gown  pattern^  and  but  one  of  them  in  hand. 

“You’ve  altered  your  mind,  love,  and  has  [have?]  a  mind  to  rue;^ 

I  hope  I’ll  find  some  other  girl  I  love  as  well  as  you. 

“Love  is  a  thing,  my  dear,  that  can’t  be  bought  nor  sold. 

Love’s  been  more  dear  to  me  than  ten  thousand  pounds  of  gold.’’ 

23.  YOUNG  EDWARDS. 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  I9i3-) 

I  am  a  dying  soldier  lying  near  the  battle  field. 

My  comrades  gathering  round  me  down  by  my  side  to  kneel. 

To  gaze  upon  young  Edwards,  who  raised  a  drooping  head. 

Saying,  “Who  will  care  for  mother  when  her  soldier  boy  is  dead?  ’’ 

Go  tell  my  old  father  in  death  I  prayed  for  him 

That  we  might  meet  in  a  world  that’s  freed  from  [death  and]  sin. 

1  A  ballad  of  the  broadside  type,  apparently  of  American  manufacture. 

*  A  town  in  Albemarle  County. 

*  That  is,  “for  the  makings  of  three  gowns.”  A  "boat  pattern  is  lumber  enough  to 
make  a  boat. 

^  That  is,  to  swap  back  again,  as  in  a  trading  of  knives. 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


1 66 

I  am  my  father’s  only  son,  my  mother’s  only  joy; 

She  weeps  the  tears  of  angels  for  her  dying  soldier  boy. 

Go  tell  my  little  sister  for  me  she  must  not  weep, 

Here  no  more  by  her  fireside  take  her  on  my  [knee?] 

Nor  sing  them  little  songs  to  her  she  used  to  hear  me  sing. 

For  her  brother’s  lying  bleeding  at  the  battle  of  Mill  Springs. 

I  am  my  father’s  only  son  to  comfort  his  old  age. 

My  heart  is  like  a  captured  bird  a-fluttering  in  its  cage. 

But  when  I  heard  my  name  was  called  for  a  soldier  to  be, 

I  voted  for  the  Union  and  for  its  liberty. 

Now,  listen,  comrades,  listen,  of  the  girl  I  speak  of  now! 

[Line  missing.] 

But  little  does  she  care  for  me;  she  walks  along  and  sings. 

And  her  true-love  lying  bleeding  at  the  battle  of  Mill  Springs. 

Many  a  thousand  soldier  who  raised  a  drooping  head 

To  gaze  upon  young  Edwards,  who  prayed  before  he  died.^ 

The  stars  and  stripes  he  kissed  them  and  layed  them  by  his  side: 

“Here’s  three  cheers  for  the  Union!’’  and  he  dropped  his  head  and  died. 

24.  COLONEL  SHARP.2 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  given  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913.) 
Gentlemen  and  Ladies,  I  pray  you  lend  an  ear; 

A  very  sad  story  you  now  shall  quickly  hear; 

It  was  of  a  bold  young  lawyer  lived  in  Kentucky  state 
Who  on  his  own  true  lovyer  with  patience  he  did  wait. 

*  "Ere  the  soldier  boy  was  dead  ”? 

*  The  killing  on  which  this  ballad  is  based  occurred  in  Frankfort  in  1824.  It  became 
the  basis  of  widely  spread  ballads.  To  students  of  American  literature  the  affair  is  of 
interest,  in  that  it  was  the  basis  of  Poe’s  fragmentary  tragedy  Politian,  Hoffman’s  Greys- 
laer,  and  of  some  four  or  five  other  pieces  of  American  literature.  Jereboam  O.  Beauchamp, 
a  young  student  of  law  living  in  Glasgow,  Ky.,  learned  from  a  fellow-student  that  Col.  Sol. 
P.  Sharp,  under  whom  Beauchamp  expected  to  study  law,  had  been  guilty  of  seducing 
Miss  Ann  Cook.  He  conceived  at  once  a  contempt  for  Sharp,  and  through  sympathy  for 
the  girl  sought  her  acquaintance.  He  soon  fell  in  love  with  Miss  Cook,  and  asked  her  to 
marry  him.  She  made  one  condition,  that  he  kill  Sharp.  He  agreed  to  the  condition, 

tried  to  make  Sharp  fight.  Sharp  refused  and  kept  out  of  Beauchamp’s  way.  Beau¬ 
champ  made  all  his  neighbors  believe  that  he  and  his  wife  (the  two  had  married  in  the 
mean  time)  were  going  to  move  to  Missouri.  He  arranged  that  just  before  his  proposed 
departure  urgent  business  should  take  him  to  Frankfort,  where  Sharp  held  the  position  of 
attorney-general.  Beauchamp,  having  disguised  himself  as  a  negro,  called  Sharp  out  of  his 
home  at  night  and  killed  him.  He  then  sunk  his  disguise  in  the  river,  and,  having  put  on 
his  own  clothes  again,  slipped  back  into  his  hotel.  On  the  next  day  he  returned  to  his 
home;  but  he  was  suspected,  arrested,  and  convicted.  He  and  his  wife  both  tried  to  commit 
suicide  by  drinking  poison.  The  wife  died  of  the  poison  one  hour  after  the  husband  was 
executed  for  his  deed.  While  in  prison,  Beauchamp  wrote  at  length  a  Confession,  which 
is  occasionally  seen  even  now  for  sale. 


167 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 

She  told  him  she  would  marry  him  if  he  would  avenge  her  heart 
Of  injury  had  been  done  her  by  one  said  Colonel  Sharpe, 

She  said  he  had  reduced  her  and  brought  her  spirits  low 
“And  without  some  satisfaction  no  pleasures  can  I  know.” 

It’s  “Oh,  my  dearest  Jewel,  that’s  pleasant  talk  to  me. 

To  kill  the  man  who  injured  you  I  really  do  feel  free; 

For  I  never  could  expect  you  for  to  become  my  wife 
Until  I  did  attack  him  and  surely  take  his  life.” 

He  had  made  some  preparations  and  on  to  Frankfort  went; 

To  kill  this  noble  Colonel  it  was  his  whole  intent. 

He  took  him  out  to  one  side  and  gave  to  him  a  knife. 

He  said,  “I  cannot  fight  you  if  this  lady  be  your  wife.” 

He  went  down  to  Frankfort  all  on  the  very  next  day. 

He  hunted  Frankfort  over,  and  Sharpe  had  gone  away. 

He  turned  to  his  lovyer  and  told  her  what  he’d  done. 

And  both  agreed  within  themselves  they’d  let  him  longer  run. 

She  made  a  mask  of  black  silk  and  put  it  on  his  head; 

So  they  might  think  he  was  some  negro  as  he  ran  from  the  bed. 
He  slipped  along  most  secretly  till  he  came  to  Colonel  Sharpe; 
Called  him  from  his  bed  chamber  and  stabbed  him  to  his  heart. 

And  then  this  Colonel’s  friends  they  all  came  flocking  round. 


And  wasn’t  it  most  sorrowful  to  see  him  bleed  and  die. 

And  leave  his  little  children  and  his  poor  wife  to  cry? 

And  then  his  dearest  lovyer  turned  to  his  loving  wife. 

Says,  “Oh,  my  dearest  Jewel,  I’ve  took  that  Colonel’s  life. 
And  now  we  will  prepare  ourselves  and  to  Missouri  run,^ 

And  I  hope  we’ll  be  more  happier  than  when  we  first  begun.” 

She  said,  “Oh,  my  dearest  Jewel,  just  do  as  you  please; 
You’ve  took  me  out  of  trouble  and  set  me  at  my  ease.” 

This  couple  was  followed  after  and  back  was  fetched  again. 
He  was  tried  by  judge  and  jury,  and  guilty  he  was  found. 
They  carried  him  to  the  jail  house  and  in  it  he  was  bound. 

Then  he  called  for  pen  and  ink  to  write  all  around, 

“I  want  this  whole  world  to  know  what  I  have  done: 

I’ve  killed  this  noble  Colonel  that  injured  my  poor  wife 
And  always  will  protect  her  as  long  as  I  have  life. 

“My  dear  old  father,  don’t  you  trouble  me; 

And  my  dear  old  mother,  don’t  grieve  nor  cry  for  me; 

For  the  laws  of  old  Kentucky  say  I  must  shortly  die 
And  leave  my  little  brothers  and  sisters  here  to  cry.” 

1  The  trip  to  Missouri  was  planned  before  the  murder. 

VOL.  XXVIII. — NO.  108.  —  12. 


i68 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 

Then  he  says,  “Oh,  my  dearest  Jewel,  come  stay  awhile  with  me. 
For  I  shortly  must  leave  you  to  go  to  eternity. 

May  the  heavens  bless  you  while  here  on  earth  you  stay. 

And  all  my  friends  protect  you  and  help  you  on  your  way.” 

She  says,  “My  dearest  Jewel,  I’ll  stay  awhile  with  you; 

The  reasons  of  your  troubles  were  all  becaused  by  me.” 

She  says,  “I  will  stay  with  you  while  here  on  earth  you  stay. 

And  when  you’re  persecuted  lie  with  you  in  the  clay.” 

She  ground  her  penknife,  she  ground  it  keen  and  sharp; 

While  he  was  talking  to  her  she  stabbed  it  to  her  heart; 

She  gave  it  to  her  own  true-love,  he  undertook  the  same; 

The  very  second  blow  he  made  she  stopped  it  with  her  hand. 

Perhaps  there’s  some  one  here  who’d  wish  to  know  their  names. 

It  was  Andy  Bowens  Beecher  and  Andy  Cooker’s  dame. 

And  wasn’t  it  surprising  that  they  behaved  so  brave. 

And  in  each  other’s  bosom  lay  mouldering  in  the  grave? 

Was  ever  a  transaction  that  caused  so  much  blood 
Was  ever  a  true-hearted  man  more  constant  to  his  love? 

25.  PEARL  BRYN.^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  IQIS-) 
Down,  down  in  yonder  valley  where  the  flowers  fade  and  bloom. 

Our  own  Pearl  Bryn  is  sleeping  in  her  cold  and  silent  tomb. 

She  did  not  die  broken  hearted  nor  from  lingering  illness  fell. 

But  in  one  instant  parted  from  a  home  she  loved  so  well. 

One  night  when  the  moon  shone  brightly  and  the  stars  were  shining  too, 
When  up  to  her  cottage  window  her  jealous  lover  drew. 

“Come,  Pearl,  and  let  us  wander  in  the  valley  deep  and  gay; 

Come,  love,  and  let  us  ponder  upon  our  wedding  day.” 

Deep,  deep  into  the  valley  he  led  his  love  so  dear; 

Says  she,  “’Tis  for  you  only  that  I  have  wandered  here; 

The  way  seems  dark  and  dreary,  and  I’m  afraid  to  stay; 

Besides,  I’m  worn  and  weary  and  would  retrace  my  way.” 

“Retrace  your  way?  No,  never!  These  woods  you’ll  roam  no  more; 
No  one  on  earth  can  save  you;  Pearl  Bryn,  you  now  must  die.” 

Down  on  her  knees  before  him  she  pleaded  for  her  life; 

Deep,  deep  into  her  bosom  he  plunged  the  fatal  knife. 

“What  have  I  done,  Scot  Jackson,  that  you  should  take  my  life? 

I  always  loved  you  dearly  and  would  have  been  your  wife. 

Farewell,  my  loving  parents,  you’ll  see  my  face  no  more; 

Long,  long  you’ll  wait  my  coming  at  the  little  cottage  door. 

“Farewell,  my  darling  sisters,  my  peaceful  happy  home! 

Farewell,  my  dear  old  schoolmates,  with  you  no  more  I’ll  roam!  ” 


1  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xx,  p.  264. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


169 


When  birds  were  sweetly  singing  their  bright  and  joyous  songs 
They  found  Pearl  Bryn’s  body  on  the  cold  and  silent  grounds 

26.  SPRINGFIELD  MOUNTAIN.^ 

(From  Kentucky;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Sanders;  1912.) 

Johnny  Ray  went  out  one  day 

Into  the  meadow  for  to  mow  some  hay. 

Mowed  round  and  round  and  at  last  did  feel 
A  pizen  sarpent  bite  his  heel. 

“Oh,  Johnny  dear,  why  did  you  go 
Into  the  meadow  that  hay  for  to  mow?’’ 

“Oh,  Mary  dear,  I  thought  you  knowed 
Daddy’s  hay  had  to  be  mowed.’’ 

At  last  he  died;  gave  up  the  ghost; 

And  on  to  Abraham’s  bosom  did  coast. 

Crying,  crying,  as  he  went, 

“Cruel,  cruel  sar-pi-ent!’’ 

27.  johnny’s  so  long  at  the  fair.^ 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  recitation  of  Mrs.  Brown;  1909.) 

Oh,  dear!  what  can  the  matter  be?  {twice) 

Johnny’s  so  long  at  the  fair. 

He  promised  to  bring  me  a  basket  of  roses, 

A  basket  of  pinks,  and  a  basket  of  posies, 

A  little  straw  hat,  and  a  bunch  of  blue  ribbon 
To  tie  up  my  bonny  brown  hair. 

Oh,  dear!  what  can  the  matter  be?  {twice) 

Johnny’s  so  long  at  the  fair. 

He  promised  to  bring  me  a  ring  and  a  locket, 

A  few  little  things  to  put  in  my  pocket, 

A  little  fur  cap,  and  a  bunch  of  blue  ribbon 
To  tie  up  my  bonny  brown  hair. 

28.  FORSAKEN. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Kent;  1909.) 

My  Willie  is  a  good  boy,  a  good  boy  is  he; 

How  often  he’s  told  me  how  constant  he’d  be! 

He’s  out  on  the  water;  he’ll  sink  or  he’ll  swim; 

If  he  can  live  without  me,  I  can  live  without  him. 

I’ll  pull  off  my  grey  dress,  I’ll  put  on  my  green; 

If  I  am  forsaken.  I’m  only  sixteen! 

*  Another  version  of  this  wide-spread  song  from  Rush  Run,  W.  Va.,  gives  to  the  girl 
the  name  Loretta,  and  to  the  boy  Willie. 

*  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xii,  p.  242;  vol.  xiii,  pp.  107,  295. 

®  Compare  Mother  Goose’s  Book  (London,  1910),  p.  30. 


lyo  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 

Forsaken,  forsaken,  forsaken  by  one! 

Poor  fool,  he’s  mistaken,  if  he  thinks  I  will  mourn. 

I’ll  tell  him  I  love  him,  to  give  his  heart  ease; 

And  then  when  his  back’s  turned.  I’ll  love  who  I  please. 

Green  leaves  they  will  wither,  and  branches  decay, 

And  the  promise  of  a  young  man  will  soon  fade  away. 

Oh,  I  can  live  likely!  oh,  I  can  live  long! 

I  can  love  an  old  sweetheart  till  a  new  one  comes  along.^ 

29.  THE  ORPHAN  GIRL.^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  lent  E.  N.  Caldwell;  IQIS-) 

“No  home,  no  home!”  pretty  ®  little  girl  at  the  door  of  a  princely  hall. 

As  she  trembling  stood  on  the  polished  steps  and  leaned  on  the  marble  wall. 

It  was  dark  and  cold  and  the  snow  fell  fast  and  the  rich  man  shut  his  door, 

As  his  proud  face  frowned  and  he  scornfully  said,  “No  room,  no  room  for 
the  poor.” 

“I  must  freeze,”  she  said,  as  she  sunk  on  the  porch  and  strove  to  wrap  her 
feet 

With  her  tattered  dress  all  covered  with  snow,  all  covered  with  snow  and 
sleet. 

Her  clothing  was  thin,  and  her  feet  were  bare,  but  the  snow  had  covered 
her  head. 

^‘Give  me  a  home,”  she  mournfully  cried,  *  a  home  and  a  piece  of  bread. 

“  My  father,  alas!  I  never  knew,”  as  the  tears  bedim  her  eyes;  ^ 

•“  My  mother  sleeps  in  a  new-made  grave;  I’m  an  orphan,  a  beggar  to-night.’ 
The  rich  man  slept  on  his  velvet  couch  and  dreamed  of  his  silver  and  gold. 
And  the  poor  little  girl  in  her  bed  of  snow  murmured,  “So  cold,  so  cold!” 

The  night  it  passed  like  a  midnight  charm,  tolled  out  like  a  funeral  knell. 
This  earth  was  wrapped  in  a  winding  sheet;  the  drifting  snow  still  fell. 

The  night  it  passed  and  morning  drew,  still  laid  at  the  rich  man  s  door,® 
But  her  soul  had  fled  to  a  home  above  where  there’s  room  and  bread  for 
the  poor. 

30.  THE  BLIND  CHILD’s  PRAYER.® 

A. 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  written  for  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913-) 

“They  tell  me,  father,  that  to-night  you  wed  another  bride; 

That  you  will  clasp  her  in  your  arms,  where  my  dear  mother  died. 

1  With  this  sentiment  compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xx,  p.  269. 

^  Evidently  the  work  of  the  minstrel.  Most  probably  a  song  from  the  world  of  print, 
that,  by  reason  of  its  obvious  pathos,  found  a  place  in  the  repertoire  of  the  folk.  I  have 
another  version  from  Clay  County,  Kentucky. 

®  Kentucky  MS,  “Plead  a  little  girl.” 

^  Kentucky  MS,  “With  the  tears  so  bright  in  her  eyes.”  Read  “in  her  eyes  so  bright. 

®  Kentucky  MS.,  “Morning  dawns  on  the  little  girl  as  she  lay  at  the  rich  man’s  door. 

®  This  is  evidently  the  work  of  a  literary  hand.  Such  songs  are  often  taken  over  into 
the  possession  of  folk. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


171 


“Her  picture’s  hanging  on  the  wall;  her  books  are  lying  near; 

And  there’s  the  harp  her  fingers  touched,  and  there’s  her  vacant  chair. 

“The  chair  where  by  her  side  I’ve  knelt  to  say  her  evening  prayer; 

Please,  father,  do  not  bid  me  come,  for  I  could  not  meet  her  there. 

“  But  when  I’ve  cried  myself  to  sleep,  as  now  I  often  do. 

Then  softly  to  my  chamber  creep  ^  my  new  mamma  and  you. 

“  Then  bid  her  gently  press  a  kiss  upon  my  throbbing  brow. 

Just  as  my  own  dear  mother  would.  Why,  papa,  you’re  weeping  now! 

“  Now  let  me  kneel  down  by  your  side  and  to  the  Savior  pray 

That  God’s  right  hand  may  guide  you  both  through  life’s  long  weary  way.” 

The  prayer  was  murmured,  and  she  said,  “I’m  growing  weary  now.’’ 

He  gently  raised  her  in  his  arms  and  laid  her  on  the  bed. 

Then  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  room,  one  joyful  cry  was  given. 

He  turned  and  caught  the  last  sweet  smile;  his  blind  child  was  in  heaven. 

They  lay  her  by  her  mother’s  side  and  raised  a  marble  fair. 

And  on  it  engraved  these  simple  words,  “There’ll  be  no  blind  ones  there.” 

b.2 

(From  Kentucky;  mountain  whites;  MS.  taken  by  E.  N.  Caldwell  from  a  mountain 

banjo-picker’s  singing;  iQiS-) 

They  say  her  name  is  Mary  too,  the  name  my  mother  wore. 

Nor  will  she  prove  so  kind  and  true  as  the  one  you  loved  before. 

Is  her  step  so  soft  and  low,  her  voice  so  sweet  and  mild? 

And  do  you  think  she  loves  me  too,  your  blind  and  helpless  child? 

And,  father,  do  not  bid  me  come  [to  greet  your  new-made  bride]; 

I  could  not  meet  her  in  the  room  [where]  my  dear  mother  died. 

Her  picture’s  hanging  on  the  walls,  her  robes  are  lying  there; 

There  is  the  harp  her  fingers  touched,  there  sits  the  vacant  chair. 

Close  by  her  side  when  [  =  where?]  I  have  [knelt]  to  say  my  eveni  ng  prayer. 
O  father!  it  would  break  my  heart.  I  could  not  meet  her  there. 

31.  THE  SHIP  THAT  NEVER  RETURNED.^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  written  for  E.  N.  Caldwell;  ipiS-) 

On  a  summer  day  when  the  waves  were  rippled 
By  the  softest  gentlest  breeze 
Did  a  ship  set  sail  with  a  cargo  laden 
For  a  port  beyond  the  seas. 

1  Apparently  a  volitive  subjunctive. 

*  The  verses  here,  taken  from  a  badly  mangled  form  of  this  song,  may  be  added  to  those 
of  the  North  Carolina  version. 

3  A  song  well  known  among  the  mountain  folk  of  East  Tennessee.  Se  e  Harvard  Col¬ 
lege  Library  25241.29. 


172 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 

There  were  sweet  farewells,  there  were  loving  signals, 

While  a  form  was  yet  discerned; 

For  they  knew  it  not,  ’twas  a  solemn  parting. 

For  the  ship  she  never  returned. 

Refrain. 

Did  she  ever  return?  No,  she  never  returned; 

For  her  fate  is  yet  unlearned. 

Though  for  years  and  years  there’s  been  kind  hearts  watching 
For  the  ship  that  never  returned. 

Said  a  feeble  lad  to  his  anxious  mother, 

“I  must  cross  the  wide,  wide  sea; 

For  they  say  perchance  in  a  foreign  climate 
There  is  strength  for  me.” 

’Twas  a  gleam  of  hope  in  a  maze  of  danger 
Her  poor  heart  for  her  youngest  earned^ 

Yet  she  sent  him  forth  with  a  smile  and  blessing 
On  the  ship  that  never  returned. 

“Only  one  more  trip,”  said  a  gallant  seaman. 

As  he  kissed  his  weeping  wife 

“Only  one  more  bag  of  this  golden  treasure. 

And  it  will  last  us  all  through  life. 

“Then  I  spend  my  days  in  my  cosey  cottage 
And  enjoy  the  rest  I  have  earned;” 

But  alas,  poor  man!  for  he  sailed  commander 
Of  the  ship  that  never  returned. 

32.  A  PACKAGE  OF  OLD  LETTERS. ^ 

(From  North  Carolina;  mountain  whites;  MS.  written  for  E.  N.  Caldwell;  1913.) 

In  a  little  rosewood  casket  that  is  resting  on  the  stand 

There’s  a  package  of  old  letters  written  by  a  cherished  hand. 

Will  you  go  and  bring  them,  sister,  and  read  them  all  to-night; 

I  have  often  tried,  but  could  not,  for  the  tears  would  blind  my  sight. 

Come  up  closer  to  me,  sister,  let  me  lean  upon  your  breast; 

For  the  tide  of  life  is  ebbing,  and  I  fain  would  be  at  rest. 

Bring  the  letters  he  has  written,  he  whose  voice  I’ve  often  heard. 

Read  them  over,  love,  distinctly,  for  I’ve  cherished  every  word. 

Tell  him,  sister,  when  you  see  him,  that  I  never  cease  to  love; 

That  I  dying  prayed  to  him  in  a  better  world  above. 

Tell  him  that  I  was  supported,  never  word  of  censure  spoke. 

But  his  silence  and  his  absence  this  poor  heart  have  well-nigh  broke. 

1  So  spelled  in  the  MS.  Possibly  Pistol's  word. 

2  See  Harvard  College  Library  25241.29. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


173 


Tell  him  that  I  watched  his  coming  when  the  noontide  sun  was  high, 
And  when  at  eve  the  angels  set  their  starlights  in  the  sky. 

But  when  I  saw  he  came  not,  tell  him  that  I  did  not  chide, 

But  I  spoke  in  love  about  him  and  I  blessed  him  when  I  died. 

And  when  in  death’s  white  garment  you  have  wrapped  my  form  around. 
And  have  laid  me  down  to  slumber  in  the  quiet  churchyard  ground. 

Place  these  letters  and  the  picture  close  beside  my  pulseless  heart. 

We  for  years  have  been  together,  and  in  death  we  will  not  part. 

I  am  ready  now,  my  sister,  you  may  read  the  letters  o’er; 

I  will  listen  to  the  words  of  him  whom  I  shall  see  no  more. 

And  ere  you  shall  have  finished  should  I  calmly  fall  asleep, — 

Fall  asleep  in  death  and  wake  not,  —  dearest  sister,  do  not  weep. 

33.  BILLY  GRIMES. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Kent;  1909.) 
To-morrow  morn  I’m  sweet  sixteen,  and  Billy  Grimes,  the  drover. 
Has  popped  the  question  to  me,  Ma,  and  wants  to  be  my  lover. 
To-morrow  [morn]  he  says,  my  Ma,  he’s  coming  here  quite  early. 

To  take  a  pleasant  walk  with  me  across  the  field  of  barley. 

‘You  must  not  go,  my  daughter  dear,  there  is  no  use  in  talking. 

You  shall  not  cross  the  field  with  Billy  Grimes  a-walking. 

To  think  of  his  presumption!  the  dirty,  ugly  drover! 

I  wonder  where  your  pride  has  gone  to  think  of  such  a  rover. 

‘Old  Grimes  is  dead  you  know,  my  Ma,  and  Billy  is  so  lonely; 
Besides  they  say  of  Grimes’  estate  that  Billy  is  the  only 
Surviving  heir  to  all  that’s  left,  and  that  they  say  is  nearly 
A  good  ten  thousand  dollars,  Ma,  about  six  hundred  yearly. 

I  did  not  hear,  my  daughter  dear,  your  last  remark  quite  clearly, 

But  Billy  is  a  clever  lad  and  no  doubt  loves  you  dearly; 

Remember,  then,  to-morrow  morn,  to  be  up  bright  and  early, 

To  take  a  pleasant  walk  with  him  across  the  field  of  barley. 

34.  BILL. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  W.  P.  Bean;  1909.) 

I’ll  tell  you  of  a  fellow,  a  fellow  you  have  seen; 

He’s  neither  blue  nor  yellow,  but  altogether  green. 

He’s  altogether  green,  he’s  altogether  green. 

He’s  neither  blue  nor  yellow,  but  altogether  green. 

His  name  is  not  so  charming;  it’s  only  common  Bill; 

He  wishes  me  to  marry  him,  but  I  hardly  think  I  will. 

I  hardly  think,  etc. 

He  wrote  me  a  letter,  such  a  letter  you  have  read; 

He  said  if  I  didn’t  marry  him  he  thought  ’twould  kill  him  dead. 

He  thought,  etc. 


174 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


And  the  Holy  Bible  says  it  is  a  sin  to  kill; 

And  since  I’ve  thought  it  over,  I  think  I’ll  marry  Bill. 

I  think,  etc. 

35.  JOHNNY  SANDS. ^ 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Kent;  1909.) 

A  man  whose  name  was  Johnny  Sands 
Had  married  Betsy  Hage; 

And  though  she  brought  him  gold  and  lands. 

She  proved  a  mighty  plague. 

For  oh!  she  was  a  scolding  wife. 

Full  of  caprice  and  whim; 

She  said  that  she  was  tired  of  life. 

And  that  she  was  tired  of  him. 

Said  he,  “I  will  drown  myself; 

The  river  runs  below.” 

Said  she,  “Pray  do,  you  silly  elf; 

I’ve  wished  it  long  ago.” 

“For  fear  that  I  might  courage  lack 
And  try  to  save  my  life. 

Pray,  tie  my  hands  behind  my  back.” 

“I  will,”  replied  his  wife. 

She  tied  them  fast  as  you  may  think. 

And  when  securely  done, 

Says  she,  “Now  stand  upon  the  brink. 

And  I’ll  prepare  to  run.” 

Then  down  the  hill  his  loving  bride 
Did  run  with  all  her  force 
To  push  him  in:  he  stepped  aside. 

And  she  fell  in,  of  course. 

Then  splashing,  dashing  like  a  fish, 

“Oh,  save  me,  Johnny  Sands!” 

“I  can’t,  my  dear,  though  much  I  wish. 

For  you  have  tied  my  hands.” 

36.  THE  BEAUTIFUL  BOY. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  recitation  of  Mrs.  Brown;  1909.) 

’Twas  a  cold  winter’s  day  about  six  in  the  mo’n. 

That  I,  little  innocent  baby,  wus  bo’n. 

There  wus  doctor  an’  nurse  an’  a  gret  many  more. 

But  none  of  them  had  seen  such  a  baby  before. 

Some  said  I  wus  like  my  Mama-a; 

“Yes;  an’  there  is  the  nose  uv  Papa-a. 

With  a  few  alterations,  oh,  La-a, 

We’ll  make  him  a  beautiful  boy. 

^  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xxv,  p.  12;  see  also  Harvard  College  Library  25254.10.5. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


175 


“To  make  him  a  beauty,”  spoke  out  Mrs.  Speer, 
“We’ll  be  troubled  unless  the  child  has  a  sweet  leer.” 

Then,  to  give  me  this  leer,  Mrs.  Glazier  arose 
And  a  lump  of  red  putty  stuck  bang  on  my  nose 
To  make  me  a  beautiful  boy. 

Oh,  it  made  me  to  wink  and  to  blink,  O! 

And  the  ladies  knew  not  what  to  think,  O! 

And  at  last  it  turned  into  this  squint,  O! 

To  make  me  a  beautiful  boy. 

37.  O  MY  LAURA  LEE! 


A. 

(From  North  Carolina;  country  whites;  MS.  of  W.  Lockhart;  1905.) 

There’s  money  in  my  pocket; 

Don’t  you  hear  it  jingle? 

I’ll  never  marry 

As  long  as  you  stay  single. 

O  my  Laura  Lee! 

O  my  Laura  Lee! 

O  my  Laura  Lee,  girl. 

Oh,  do  remember  me! 

I’ve  been  travellin’  roun’  this  work; 

I’ve  travelled  with  the  sun; 

If  I  can’t  marry  the  girl  I  love. 

I’ll  never  marry  none. 

I  wish  I  had  a  ban’  box 
To  put  my  true-love  in; 

I’d  take  her  out  an  kiss  twice 
An  lay  her  back  agin. 

My  rifle’s  on  my  shoulder; 

I’m  bettin’  on  the  yan;  ^ 

I’m  going  to  California 
To  see  my  love  agan.^ 

Rabbit  in  the  lowlan’. 

Playin’  in  the  san’ 

If  he  don’t  min’  ’fore  the  sun  goes  down, 

I’ll  have  him  in  my  han’. 

Hop  rabbit!  jump  rabbit! 

Rabbit  gone  to  mill. 

Rabbit  spilt  his  co’n. 

Singing  mountain  hill. 

1  Dialectic  form  of  “yon;”  i.e.,  the  things  yonder. 

2  The  next  two  stanzas  are  omitted  as  unprintable. 


176 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


Never  marry  a  widow,^ 

ril  tell  you  the  reason  why: 
Her  neck’s  so  long  an  stringy 
I’m  afraid  she’ll  never  die. 


B. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1908.) 

I  wouldn’t  marry  a  pore  gal, 

I’ll  tell  you  the  reason  why: 

She’d  blow  her  nose  on  a  cornbread  crust 
En  call  it  punkin  pie. 

C. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Miss  Reedy;  iQog.) 

I  wouldn’t  marry  a  preacher, 

I’ll  tell  you  the  reason  why: 

He  goes  all  over  the  country. 

And  eats  all  the  chicken  pie. 

I  wouldn’t  marry  a  widow. 

I’ll  tell  you  the  reason  why: 

She’s  got  so  many  children. 

They’d  make  the  biscuits  fly. 


D. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Stokes;  1909.) 
I  wouldn’t  marry  a  yellow  gal. 

I’ll  tell  you  the  reason  why: 

She’s  always  sittin’  on  another  man’s  lap 
And  telling  her  husband  a  lie. 


E. 

(From  Kentucky;  country  whites;  recitation  of  R.  E.  Monroe;  1913.) 
I  wouldn’t  marry  a  school-teacher. 

No,  not  a  tall. 

Sits  on  a  stool,  and  acts  like  a  fool; 

I  won’t  marry  her  a  tall. 

Apples  in  the  summer-time, 

Peaches  in  the  fall, 

I  wouldn’t  marry  a  school-teacher. 

No,  not  a  tall. 

I  wouldn’t  marry  a  country  girl. 

No,  not  a  tall. 

Sits  by  the  road  and  hops  like  a  toad; 

I  won’t  marry  her  a  tall. 


F. 

(From  Kentucky;  country  whites;  recitation  of  G.  Ragland;  1913.) 
I  wouldn’t  marry  a  country  girl; 

I’ll  tell  you  the  reason  why: 

^  A  well-known  sentiment  (cf.  this  Journal,  vol.  xx,  p.  247). 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


177 


She  combs  her  hair  with  a  curry-comb, 

And  that  don’t  suit  my  eye. 

I  wouldn’t  marry  a  city  girl; 

I’ll  tell  you  the  reason  why: 

Wants  to  spend  every  dollar  that  you  get, 

And  that  don’t  suit  my  eye. 

38.  SWEET  LILY.^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  recitation  of  F,  Le  Tellier;  1913-) 

My  foot’s  in  my  stirrup;  my  bridle’s  in  my  han’; 

I’m  courtin’  sweet  Lily  to  marry  her  if  I  can. 

The  old  folks  don’t  like  me;  they  say  I’m  too  poor; 

They  say  I’m  not  worthy  to  knock  at  their  door. 

They  say  I  drink  liquor,  but  the  money  is  my  own, 

And  those  that  don’t  like  me  can  let  me  alone. 

39.  IDA  RED. 

A. 

(From  Kentucky;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  House;  IQOSO 

Ida  Red,  Ida  Red, 

Everybody  loves  old  Ida  Red. 

Went  down  to  Ida’s  about  half  past  ten; 

Took  old  Ida  a  glass  of  gin. 

“Now,  here,  old  Ida,  drink  this  gin; 

And  we  won’t  be  long  making  it  up  again.’’ 

I  went  down  to  Ida’s  about  half  past  four; 

“Get  up,  old  Ida,  and  open  the  door. 

“Get  up,  old  Ida,  and  don’t  be  so  slow; 

Give  them  rambling  men  time  to  go.’’ 

I  went  down  to  Ida’s  about  half  past  two. 

I  said  to  Ida,  “Who’s  in  the  bed  with  you? 

“Open  the  door  and  let  me  see.’’ 

“There  ain’t  nobody  in  the  bed  with  me.’’ 

Got  up  and  lit  the  lamp; 

There  stood  that  stinking  scamp. 

Buy  me  a  horse  and  make  me  a  sled. 

And  I’ll  go  home  with  Ida  Red. 

Ain’t  but  one  thing  I  do  hate; 

Went  down  to  Ida’s  and  stayed  too  late. 

1  Mr.  Lomax  gives  a  version  of  this  in  Cowboy  Songs.  This  is  sung  to  music  modified 
from  that  of  “The  Pretty  Mohee.” 


178 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


B. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  singing  of  a  mountain  boy;  1908.) 
See  me  stan’in’  there  shakin’  my  head; 

See  me  study  ’bout  Ida  Red. 

Make  me  a  sled  en  buy  me  a  mule; 

Take  little  Ida  to  Sunday  school. 

Ida  Red  she  ain’t  no  fool; 

She’s  got  a  head  like  a  Texas  mule. 

Shanghai  rooster  got  no  comb; 

Pore  little  Ida  got  no  home. 

40.  FRANKY.^ 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909.) 
Franky  went  down  the  bayou; 

Franky  heard  a  bull-dog  bark; 

Franky  said,  “That’s  Albert 
Hiding  in  the  dark, 

For  he’s  my  man;  but  he’s  done  me  wrong.” 

Franky  went  down  a  dark  alley; 

Heard  a  bull-dog  bark: 

And  there  lay  her  Albert, 

Shot  right  through  the  heart. 

“Oh,  he’s  my  man;  but  he’s  done  me  wrong.” 

Franky  went  on  the  witness  stand; 

The  judge  says,  “Don’t  tell  me  no  lie; 

When  you  shot  poor  Albert, 

Did  you  intend  for  him  to  die? 

Oh,  he’s  your  man;  but  he’s  done  you  wrong.” 

Oh,  rubber  tire  buggy,* 

Rubber  tire  hack, 

Took  poor  Albert  to  the  cemetery. 

But  it  never  is  brought  him  back. 

“Oh,  he’s  my  man;  but  he’s  dead  and  gone.” 

41.  LIZA  JANE.® 


A. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905.) 


5 - s - fS - 

■ - P - H - J - 

r» - -A-1 

fW  1^  J 

.1 — u  ®  • 

^ ^ 

- 0 — 0 - 

L — 1^-4 — - — — 

H - 

^^1 

-f - ^ - F- 

- — 

1 

V - V — V — - 

jj  "1  ■“ 

b;=t=:i=i 

'  An  indigenous  ballad  that  has  many  of  the  finer  qualities  of  the  older  compositions. 
^  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xxiv,  pp.  289,  354,  367. 

®  Ibid.,  vol.  iii,  p.  290;  vol.  vi,  pp.  131,  134. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


179 


Chorus. 


-N— N-4 


-(S — fV— + 


ii 


Chorus. 


Pore  little  Liza,  pore  little  gal! 

Pore  little  Liza  Jane! 

Pore  little  Liza,  pore  little  gal! 
She  died  on  the  train. 


B. 

(From  Kentucky;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  House;  IQOS-) 

Go  up  on  the  mountain  top 
To  plant  me  a  patch  of  cane 
To  make  me  a  barrel  of  molasses 
To  sweeten  up  Lizie  Jane. 

Standing  on  the  platform. 

Waiting  for  the  train; 

“Get  your  old  black  bonnet. 

And  let’s  go,  Lizie  Jane.’’ 

The  hardest  work  that  I  ever  done 
Was  breaking  on  the  train; 

The  easiest  work  that  I  ever  done 
Was  hugging  Lizie  Jane. 

Her  nose  just  like  an  old  coffee  pot; 

Mouth  just  like  a  spout; 

Eyes  just  like  an  old  fireplace 
With  the  ashes  all  took  out. 

My  girl’s  name  is  Lizie; 

Her  hair  is  very  brown; 

Face  just  like  a  thundercloud. 

And  the  rain  come  pouring  down. 


C. 

(From  Indiana;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Davidson;  1908.) 

Hoop-pole,  Liza  Jane, 

Hoop-pole,  Liza  Jane. 

Hoop-pole  Liza,  poly  gal. 

And  she  rides  on  a  train. 


D. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 
You  go  down  the  new  cut  road. 

And  I’ll  go  down  the  lane; 


i8o 


Journal  oj  American  Folk-Lore. 


If  you  get  there  before  I  do, 
Oh,  tell  Miss  Lizer  Jane. 


E. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Aldrich;  1909.) 
You  ride  the  old  gray  mare. 

And  ril  ride  the  raulie; 

You  go  round  by  the  new  cut  road. 

And  I’ll  go  home  with  Julie. 


F. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  recitation  of  Mrs.  Brown;  1909.) 
She  went  up  the  new  cut  road. 

An’  I  went  down  the  lane; 

I  turned  my  head  to  my  ol’  gray  boss, 

“So  good-by,  Liza  Jane!’’ 

I  axed  her  wouldn’t  she  marry  me; 

She  axed  me  wasn’t  I  ’shamed; 

I  turned  my  head  to  my  old  gray  horse, 

“So  good-by,  Liza  Jane!’’ 


G. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Harrison;  1909.) 
Your  face  looks  like  the  coffee  pot; 

Your  nose  looks  like  the  spout; 

Your  mouth  looks  like  the  fireplace 
With  the  ashes  done  raked  out. 


H. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Upshur;  1909.) 
Whoa,  mule!  whoa,  mule! 

Whoa,  mule!  I  say!  ' 

Keep  yo  seat  Miss  Liza  Jane, 

And  hole  on  to  de  sleigh. 

Keep  yo  seat.  Miss  Liza  Jane, 

An’  quit  dat  actin’  de  fool; 

I  ain’t  got  time  ter  kiss  you  now; 

I’m  busy  wid  dis  mule. 

42.  CRIPPLE  CREEK.^ 

A. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1909.) 
Coin’  ter  Cripple  Creek,  goin’  ter  Rome  [roam?] 
Coin’  ter  Cripple  Creek,  goin’  back  home. 

See  them  women  layin’  in  the  shade. 

Waitin’  fer  the  money  them  men  have  made. 

*  A  well-known  mining  district  in  Virginia. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 

Roll  my  breeches  ter  my  knees 
En  wade  ol’  Cripple  Creek  when  I  please. 


B. 

(From  South  Carolina;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Bryan;  1909.) 
Coin’  to  Cripple  Creek,  going  in  a  run; 

Coin’  to  Cripple  Creek  to  have  my  fun. 

43.  HOW  ARE  YOU  OFF  FOR  GREENBACK? 

A. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Bell;  1909.) 
I’m  not  as  green  as  a  greenback, 

Although  you  take  me  to  be; 

That  young  man  from  New  Orleans 
Can’t  get  away  with  me. 

Oh,  how’re  you  off  for  greenback? 

How’re  you  off,  I  say? 

How’re  you  off  for  greenback? 

And  give  it  all  away. 

I  went  down  to  New  Orleans 
The  other  afternoon; 

I  saw  that  .  .  .  that  house 
Running  after  the  moon. 


B. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  recitation  of  Mr.  Longest;  1909-) 
It’s  beefsteak  whin  I’m  hungry. 

An’  whiskey  whin  I’m  dry; 

It’s  greenback  whin  I’m  ha’d  up, 

An’  heaven  whin  I  die. 

Oh,  hie  you^  off  fuh  greenback?  etc. 


c. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  W.  G.  Pitts;  1909-) 
Up  and  down  the  railroad, 

Cross  the  county  line; 

Pretty  girls  are  plentiful; 

A  wife  is  hard  to  find. 

Carried  my  girl  in  the  parlor; 

Said  she  would  be  mine; 

Put  my  arm  around  her; 

Give  her  a  Yankee  dime. 

Ask  her  would  she  marry  me; 

What  you  reckon  she  said? 

Said  she  wouldn’t  have  me 
If  all  the  rest  were  dead. 


1  A  frequent  contraction  for  “How  are  you?  ’’ 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


182 


Cornbread  when  I’m  hungry; 

Whiskey  when  I’m  dry; 
Pretty  girl  when  I  marry; 
Heaven  when  I  die. 


D. 

(From  Missouri;  cowboys;  MS.  of  Frederick  Braun;  1905.) 
Oh,  it’s  beefsteak  when  I’m  hungry, 

And  it’s  whiskey  when  I’m  dry; 

If  a  tree  don’t  fall  on  me, 

I’ll  live  till  I  die. 

44.  SHADY  GROVE. ^ 

A. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905.) 

Once  I  wus  a  little  boy^ 

Playin’  in  the  san’ ; 

Now  I  am  a  great  big  boy 
En  think  myself  a  man. 

Shady,  shady,  my  little  love. 

Shady  I  do  know; 

Shady,  shady,  my  little  love. 

I’m  boun’  fer  shady  grove. 

When  I  wus  a  little  boy. 

All  I  wanted  a  knife; 

Now  I  am  a  gret  big  boy 
En  now  I  want  a  wife. 

Some  come  here  to  fiddle  en  dance; 

Some  come  here  to  tarry; 

Some  come  here  to  fiddle  en  dance; 

I  come  here  to  marry. 

Ev’ry  night  when  I  go  home. 

My  wife  I  try  to  please  her; 

The  more  I  try,  the  worse  she  gets; 

Damned  if  I  don’t  leave  her! 


B. 

(From  Kentucky;  mountain  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  House;  1905.) 

Shady  grove,  my  little  love. 

Shady  grove,  my  darling; 

This  is  sung  to  the  same  tune  as  ‘  Old  Joe  Clark.”  tVhether  the  tune  belongs  to  the 
one  or  the  other,  or  to  neither,  I  am  unable  to  say.  I  should  like  to  remark  here,  what  I 
have  not  seen  stated  anywhere  else,  that  the  small  number  of  tunes  as  compared  with 
the  songs  in  circulation  may  often  account  for  the  mixing  of  ballads.  I  am  sure  that  it 
has  been  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  I  have  been  able  to  separate  some  of  the 
songs  in  this  collection  from  others  sung  to  the  same  tune,  and  I  am  not  sure  now  that  I 
have  not  put  some  stanzas  in  the  wrong  songs. 

2  A  good  starting-point  for  a  song  (cf.  Chambers,  p.  155). 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


183 


Shady  grove,  my  little  love, 

Going  back  to  Harland 

Fly  around,  my  blue-eyed  girl. 

Fly  around,  my  daisy; 

Fly  around,  my  blue-eyed  girl; 

Nearly  drive  me  crazy 

The  very  next  time  I  go  that  road, 

And  it  don’t  look  so  dark  and  grazy;^ 

The  very  next  time  I  come  that  road. 

Stop  and  see  my  daisy. 

I  once  had  a  mulie  cow,^ 

Mulie  when  she  was  born; 

Took  a  jay-bird  forty  year 
To  fly  from  horn  to  horn. 

Apples  in  the  summer, 

Peaches  in  the  fall;  » 

If  I  can’t  marry  the  girl  I  want, 

I  won’t  have  none  at  all. 

45.  SALLY  ANN. 

(From  Kentucky;  country  whites;  recitation  of  R.  E.  Monroe;  I9i3-) 

I  went  to  see  my  Sally  Ann;  she  met  me  at  the  door, — 

Shoes  an’  stockin’s  in  her  han’,  an’  her  feet  all  over  the  floor. 

I  ast  her  if  she  loved  me; 

She  said  she  felt  above  me; 

Out  the  door  she  shoved  me  — 

I  won’t  go  there  any  more. 

46.  SIXTEEN  MILES  AWAY  FROM  HOME. 

(From  Kentucky;  country  whites;  recitation  of  Miss  A.  Howard;  1912.) 

Sixteen  miles  away  fum  home,  chickens  crowin’  fuh  day. 

Somebody  talkin’  tuh  my  sweetheart,  en  they’d  bettuh  be  gettin’  away. 

47.  THAT  BRAND  NEW  DRESS. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  singing  of  F.  Le  Tellier;  1912.) 

“Oh,  where  did  yer  get  thet  bran’  new  dress, 

En  the  shoes  thet  look  so  fine?’’ 

“I  got  my  dress  from  a  railroad-man, 

En  my  shoes  from  a  driver  in  the  mine.’’® 

1  A  county  in  eastern  Kentucky. 

2  With  this  stanza  compare  this  Journal,  vol.  vi,  p.  134. 

2  I  have  been  unable  to  identify  this  word. 

*■  One  having  no  horns. 

2  The  conversation  is  of  course  addressed  to  a  woman  who  is  obliged  to  depend  for 
personal  needs  upon  more  than  one  source  of  supply. 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


184 


48.  PORE  gal! 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  singing  of  F.  Le  Tellier;  1912.) 
Wear  brass  buttons  on  the  old  blue  clothes, 

En  have  ter  go  ter  work  when  the  whistle  blows, 

Pore  gal,  pore  gal!^ 

49.  HOP  LIGHT,  LADIES. 

(A. — From  Virginia;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1909.) 

Hop  light,  ladies,  on  the  ballroom  floor 

Never  mind  the  weather,  so  the  wind  don’t  blow! 

Hop  light,  ladies, 'on  the  ballroom  floor; 

Never  mind  the  legs,  so  the  garters  don’t  show! 

(B. — From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 

Hop  light,  ladies,  yer  cake’s  all  dough; 

Never  mind  the  weather  so  the  wind  don’t  blow. 

50.  WHEN  I  WAS  A  LITTLE  BOY. 

(From  Indiana;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Davidson;  1908.) 

When  I  was  a  little  boy. 

Mother  kept  me  in; 

Now  I  am  a  big  boy 
Fit  to  serve  a  king. 

I  can  handle  a  musket; 

I  can  smoke  a  pipe; 

I  can  kiss  a  pretty  girl 
Ten  o’clock  at  night.® 

When  I  was  a  little  girl. 

Mother  kept  me  in; 

Now  I  am  a  big  girl. 

She  can’t  do  it  agin. 

I  can  wash  the  dishes; 

I  can  sweep  the  floor; 

I  can  court  a  pretty  boy 
Till  ten  o’clock  or  more. 

51.  IF  YOU  don’t  quit  A-FOOLIN’  WITH  MY  DONY.^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905.) 

If  yer  don’t  quit  a-foolin’  with  my  dony, 

I’ll  tell  yer  just  whut  I’ll  do; 

I’ll  finger  roun’  yer  heart  with  a  razor, 

En  I’ll  cut  yer  goozle  in  two. 

1  One  stanza  of  a  song  representing  the  shift  to  the  manufacturing  stage  of  life, 
shift  rapidly  taking  place  now  in  many  Southern  States. 

*  Pronounced  “flo”  by  many  Virginians. 

*  For  this  stanza  compare  Halliwell,  Nos.  ccxliv  and  cell. 

^  Regular  word  for  sweetheart  (cf.  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iii,  p.  306). 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


185 


52.  I  LOVE  SOMEBODY.^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905.) 


b  f,  “N  s 

- 1 — ^ - 

-N— - fj- 

-N- 

,  N  ^ 

-IV— fV-A— ^ 

Fine. 


czfchcfe: - : - -z - 

r-.  ■ 

IT  ^  n 

H  1  ^  \j 

•  * — H 

rw/  m  1  • 

iT'  - ^  i 

•  ■'* 

W  *  [P 

y  ^  ^  [7  iP  P 

V  !S  V  K  r, 

™  ®  9  ^  i  '  ' 

ns  ,• — 

w  9  WP  ,  \  h" 

bn 

ft  1'  V 

0  ^  !  - 

j 

)  y  '  ^  V  ^ 

L  y  ’ 

— 5/ — y- 

I  love  somebody;  yes,  I  do; 

’Tween  sixteen  en  twenty-two, 
Pretty  little  girl,  en  I  wont  tell  who. 


53.  THE  MOON  SHINES  BRIGHT. ^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905.) 

“The  moon  shines  bright; 

Ken  I  see  you  home  to-night?’’ 

“ The  stars  do  too; 

I  don’t  keer  if  yer  do.’’ 

54.  NEW  MOON,  TRUE  MOON.^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905.) 

New  moon,  true  moon. 

The  first  I’ve  seen  to-night, 

I  wish  I  may,  I  wish  I  might. 

See  my  truelove  in  my  dream  to-night. 


55.  IF  YOU  LOVE  ME. 


A. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1905.) 

Ef  you  love  me  like  I  love  you. 

There’ll  be  a  little  weddin’  in  a  day  er  two.^ 


B. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Harrison;  1909.) 

If  you  love  me  like  I  love  you. 

No  knife  can  cut  our  love  in  two. 

1  Sung  to  the  music  of  a  favorite  dance-tune. 

2  A  formula  used  by  the  boy  in  asking  permission  to  go  home  with  a  girl  from  “meetin’.  ” 
^  An  incantation  used  when  one  sees  the  new  moon  (cf.  Chambers,  p.  343;  and  this 

Journal,  vol.  ii,  p.  148). 

^  A  fair  sample  of  the  love  verses  exchanged  by  the  older  “scholars”  of  the  day-school. 


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Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


c. 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1914-) 

Ef  you  love  me  like  I  love  you, 

No  axe  ken  cut  our  love  in  two. 

56.  BLUE  IS  THE  VIOLET. 

A. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1910.) 

Blue  is  the  violet, 

En  red  is  the  rose, 

En  how  I  love  the  pretty  girls 
God-a’-mighty  knows. 

57.  OVER  THE  HILL.^ 

(From  Virginia;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1910.) 

Ovuh  the  hill  an  daown  the  holluh 

S’lute  yuh  bride  an’  gimme  a  dolluh. 

58.  I  LOVE  COFFEE.^ 

(From  Mississippi;  country  w’hites;  MS.  of  Miss  Reedy;  I909d 

I  love  coffee;  I  love  tea; 

I  love  the  girls  and  the  girls  love  me. 

59.  SWEETHEART,  LIGHT  OF  MY  LIFE. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  W.  G.  Pitts;  ipop-) 

Sweetheart,  light  of  my  life. 

If  only  you  could  be  my  wife! 

And  for  thee  I  pine 

And  think  of  thee  all  the  time. 

1  A  formula  used  by  the  “marryin’  squire.”  This  official  sometimes  makes  a  business 
of  marrying  run-away  couples.  These  promoters  of  the  public  weal  not  only  keep  on  the 
lookout  for  couples  contemplating  marriage,  but  even  sometimes  employ  agents  in  public 
places  to  suggest  the  important  step  to  any  who  may  appear  eligible.  Couples  with  no 
other  objective  than  that  of  a  holiday  trip  are  said  frequently  to  find  it  embarrassing  to 
alight  from  a  train  or  boat  in  such  towns  as  Jeffersonville,  Ind.  So  much  of  a  nuisance 
has  magisterial  solicitation  become  in  some  places,  that  legislation  has  been  directed 
against  it.  Such  magistrates,  sometimes,  also  keep  a  waiting-list  of  eligibles  for  the  in¬ 
spection  of  those  in  search  of  a  mate.  The  ceremony  used  by  the  ‘‘marryin’  squire”  is 
often  of  the  briefest,  —  the  two  essential  questions,  and  the  declaration  that  the  two  are 
man  and  wife.  An  example  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel  who  has  entered  the  same  field  of 
activity  may  be  seen  in  Parson  Burroughs  of  Bristol,  Va.-Tenn.,  to  whom  couples  come 
from  both  sides  of  the  State  line.  He  is  said  to  meet  every  train,  at  the  same  time  pro¬ 
viding  everything  necessary,  —  from  umbrellas  to  shelter  the  party  from  inclement  weather, 
to  the  witnesses  for  the  ceremony.  In  the  mountains  the  run-away  marriage  is  considered 
the  proper  form,  the  home  or  church  wedding  being  practically  unknown. 

®  Compare  Halliwell,  No.  cxxii. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


187 


60.  I  LIKE  NOBODY. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Bell;  1909.) 

I  like  nobody,  nobody  likes  me, 

But  I’m  as  happy  as  I  can  be; 

I’m  going  to  live  single,  always  be  free. 

Because  I  like  nobody,  and  nobody  likes  me, 

61.  WHEN  I  WAS  SINGLE. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Mr.  Aldrich;  1909.) 

When  I  was  single,  my  pocket  would  jingle; 

But  now  I  am  double,  and  I  have  a  lot  of  trouble. 

62.  LUCY  NEAL. 

(From  Mississippi;  country  whites;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 

Way  down  in  Alabama, 

’Twas  just  above  Mobile, 

’Twas  there  I  spied  that  creole  girl; 

Her  name  was  Lucy  Neal. 

O  Lucy  Neal!  O  Lucy  Neal! 

If  I  had  you  by  my  side,  how  happy  I  would  feel! 

63.  WHOLE  HEAP  u’  NICKELS.^ 

(From  East  Tennessee;  country  whites;  from  memory;  1909.) 

Whole  heap  u’  nick’ls  en  a  whole  heap  u’  dimes; 

Go  to  see  my  Loo-loo  gal  a  whole  heap  u’  times. 

64.  THE  ROAD  IS  WIDE. 

(From  East  Tennessee;  mountain  whites;  from  memory;  1908.) 

The  road  is  wide  en  I  can’t  step  it; 

I  love  you  en  I  can’t  he’p  it. 

65.  COFFEE  GROWS  ON  WHITE-OAK  TREES. ^ 

(From  Virginia;  country  whites;  singing  of  Miss  N.  B.  Graham;  1912.) 
Coffee  grows  on  white-oak  trees; 

Rivers  all  flow  with  brandy; 

Rocks  all  shine  with  a  glittering  gold. 

And  the  girls  as  sweet  as  candy. 

66.  who’s  been  a-foolin’? 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 

Honey,  when  I  had  you,  you  wouldn’t  do; 

Got  another  woman  an’  I  don’t  want  you. 

Ain’t  no  use  uv  raisin’  san’; 

I  kin  git  another  woman  ’fore  you  can  a  man. 

1  Compare  this  Journal,  vol.  xxii,  p.  248. 

2  For  another  version  from  North  Carolina  compare  this  Journal,  vol.  vi,  p.  I34- 


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Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


Who’s  been  a-foolin’,  who’s  been  a-tryin’, 

Who’s  been  a-foolin’  that  gal  o’  mine? 

I  wouldn’t  mind  it,  I  wouldn’t  care, 

But  you’ve  been  a-pullin’  back  all  the  year. 

Every  time  I  come  it’s  a  nickel  an’  er  dime; 

Would  give  you  some,  but  I  ain’t  got  time. 

67.  PURTY  YALLER  GAL. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 
Purty  yaller  gal  had  er  hole  in  her  stockin’, 

Er  hole  in  her  stockin’,  er  hole  in  her  stockin’, 
Purty  yaller  gal  had  er  hole  in  her  stockin’, 

An’  her  heel  stuck  out  behind. 

68.  WAY  DOWN  YANDER. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 
Way  down  yander  whar  I  come  fum, 

De  gals  all  call  me  sugar  plum. 

69.  OLE  SUKEY. 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  recitation  of  Mrs.  Longest;  1  1909.) 
Ole  Sukey  she  fell  in  love  wid  me; 

She  axed  me  home  to  take  tea. 

An’  whut  do  yuh  think  she  had  fuh  supper! 
Chicgn-foot,  spa-uh-grass,  hominy,  an’  butter. 

Clare  out  de  kitchen,  ole  folks,  young  folks!  {twice) 
Ole  Eerginia  nebber  tire. 

70.  A  scoldin’  WIFE.2 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  recitation  of  C.  Brown;  1909.) 

If  I  should  marry  a  scoldin’  wife. 

I’d  beat  huh,  sho’s  yuh  bo’n; 

I’d  take  huh  down  tuh  New  Orleans, 

An’  trade  huh  off  fuh  co’n. 

71.  ALLIE  BELL. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909.) 
Allie  Bell,  don’t  you  weep, 

Allie  Bell,  don’t  you  moan, 

Allie  Bell,  don’t  you  leave  your  home. 

You  understand  my  gal 
Standing  in  the  door; 

Pier  shoes  and  stockings  in  her  hand 
And  her  feet  all  over  the  floor. 

^  Reported  also  from  Kentucky  by  Miss  Mary  Kahn,  1913. 

*  See  Lucy  Long,”  in  Harvard  College  Library  25242.10.5. 


Songs  and  Rhymes  from  the  South. 


189 


72.  SOME  OF  THESE  DAYS. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909.) 

Some  of  these  days  I’m  going  to  go  crazy, 

Take  my  gun  and  shoot  my  baby. 

Nobody’s  business  but  my  own. 

Hush,  my  little  baby!  just  listen  to  my  song. 

Who’s  going  to  be  your  baby  when  I’m  dead  and  gone? 

Just  put  your  arms  around  me. 

Lay  your  head  upon  my  breast. 

And  when  I’m  gone  just  sing  this  song, 

“There’s  a  bullet  gone  to  rest.’’ 

73.  JIMMY  WHIPPED  POOR  MARY. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909.) 

Jimmy  whipped  poor  Mary 
With  a  singletree. 

And  she  cried,  “Lord  have  mercy! 

Don’t  murder  me!’’ 

74.  MY  HEART  AM  SO  SAD. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Harrison;  1909.) 

I’m  going  in  de  house  and  close  my  door. 

For  my  heart  am  so  sad; 

’Cause  my  Roberta  won’t  write  no  more; 

Oh,  my  heart  am  so  sad! 

75.  OH,  WHERE  WAS  YOU? 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 

Oh,  where  was  you  when  de  steamer  went  down.  Captain?  {thrice), 
I  was  wid  my  honey  in  de  heart  o’  town,  0  Captain! 

76.  DONE  ALL  I  CAN  DO. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  W.  G.  Pitts;  1909-) 

Done  all  I  can  do 

Trying  to  get  along  wid  you; 

Gwine  to  carry  you  to  your  mammy  pay  day. 

77.  TREAT  ME  RIGHT. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  1909.) 

The  time  is  coming  and  it  won’t  be  long. 

You’ll  get  up  some  morning,  and  you’ll  find  me  gone. 

So  treat  me  right  and  jolly  me  along 

If  you  want  this  nigger  to  sing  the  old  home  song. 

78.  RARE  BACK  SAM. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Anderson;  1909.) 

Rare  back,  Sam!  stand  back,  Davis! 

As  soon  kiss  a  monkey  as  a  poor  white  man. 


Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore. 


190 


79.  RAIN,  COME  WET  ME. 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1909.) 

Rain,  come  wet  me!  Sun,  come  dry  me! 

Gal  got  honey,  an’  she  won’t  come  nigh  me. 

80.  BROWN  SKIN  GAL. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Mr.  Aldrich;  1909.) 

I  laid  in  jail,  back  to  the  wall; 

Brown  skin  gal  cause  of  it  all. 

I’ve  got  the  blues;  I’m  too  damn  mean  to  talk. 

A  brown  skin  woman  make  a  bull-dog  break  his  chain. 

81.  COTTONEYE  JOE. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 

Ef  it  hadn’t  been  fer  dat  Cottoneye  Joe, 

Mought  er  been  married  six  er  seben  year  ago. 

82.  EVERY  TIME  THE  SUN  GOES  DOWN. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  MS.  of  Dr.  Herrington;  1909.) 
Every  time  the  sun  goes  down 
I  hangs  my  head  in  grief. 

Dat  day  I  lef  my  father’s  house, 

Dat  day  I  lef  my  frien’. 

I  fare  you  well,  my  own  true  love, 

Dey’s  plenty  mo’  girls  den  you. 

83.  YOU  GO  OUT. 

(From  Mississippi;  negroes;  M.S.  of  F.  R.  Rubel;  1909.) 

You  go  out  and  you  don’t  come  back, 

Glory  halleluger! 

I’ll  take  a  stick  and  break  your  back, 

[Glory  halleluger!] 

You  go  out  of  here,  you  flopheaded  hound; 

I’ll  take  a  stick  and  knock  you  down, 

Glory  halleluger! 

84.  LOVE  IT  AM  A  KILLING  THING. 

(From  Virginia;  negroes;  from  memory;  1912.) 

Love  it  am  a  killin’  thing,  beauty  am  a  blossom; 

Ef  yuh  want  tuh  get  yuh  finger  bit,  poke  it  at  a  ’possum. 


Louisville,  Ky. 


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